


The Warrior's Greatest Feat

by wilhelmina_murray



Series: The Turning World [2]
Category: Hemlock Grove
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Horror, Original Character(s), Romance, Smut, Supernatural Elements, Upir, Werewolves, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:08:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 37,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26734852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wilhelmina_murray/pseuds/wilhelmina_murray
Summary: Sequel To "A Still Point"Roman and Lucy must face an upir plague, and a mysterious stranger bent on upending their lives.  Secrets will be revealed that threaten to tear love and friendship apart.  And in the end, choices will be made that can never be unmade.This is an alternate Season 3.
Relationships: Roman Godfrey/Original Female Character(s), Roman Godfrey/Peter Rumancek (mentioned)
Series: The Turning World [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1945840
Comments: 42
Kudos: 19





	1. Face the Strange Changes

**Author's Note:**

> Hello Everyone! This is a continuation of my first fanfic, "A Still Point." This story has an original main character, Lucy. If you haven't read the first story, I would suggest going back, as parts of this story will not make sense without it. 
> 
> As a note, the Spivak story line has been dropped. In addition, this is story will NOT be kind to Annie, so if you are a big fan of her character...   
> First of all, why?...   
> Whatever, I'm not here to judge. If you are an Annie fan, this may not be the story for you.
> 
> I hope you enjoy. If you have suggestions or criticisms, please leave me a comment. I'm always looking to improve. And if you like the story, be kind and leave kudos.
> 
> Warning: We dive into the ADULT stuff in the very first chapter, so be aware, if that's not your thing.

One Year Later

“Aunt Dezzy, I want up,” Nadia said, leaning onto Destiny’s lap as she sat on the sofa, trying to climb her legs.

“Alright, Munchkin,” Destiny replied. She put down her wine glass and lifted Nadia onto her lap. The toddler curled her head under Destiny’s chin.

“I want more cookies,” the little one said, softly. 

Peter and Destiny laughed. “Oh, I see how it is,” Destiny said. “Mama said no more, so you come and see Aunt Dezzy. I know a grift when I see one!” She tickled the little one’s tummy, and Nadia giggled.

“She knows how to work all the angles,” Lucy said with a smirk. “Nadia,” she said in her most serious voice, “you’ve had enough cookies. I mean it.” Nadia jutted her bottom lip out, and turned her face into Destiny’s neck. Destiny laughed, silently. “I know. I’m so mean,” Lucy said.

Although Nadia would have insisted otherwise (she was frighteningly articulate at twenty-months old), if she ate any more Christmas cookies, she may actually pop like a balloon. Lucy had to move the tray to the kitchen, where Nadia couldn’t sneak any more. 

Lucy couldn’t remember a Christmas Eve like this. After more than a century of loneliness, isolation, and constant reinvention, she was here, with a real family. The beautiful fir tree, immaculately decorated, stood in the corner of the living room, waiting for Santa’s arrival. The smell of their dinner still hung in the air. Lucy made the usual American turkey with all the trimmings, but added mliečna hubová polievka, like her mother used to make. Peter ate two bowls, and had to wipe cream from his moustache several times. Lucy packed some for him to take home later. It was so cozy, the four of them and Nadia, eating, laughing, even just sitting in companionable silence. Lucy had never felt so warm. 

As evening became night, Destiny helped Lucy with Nadia’s bath while the boys smoked cigars outside. They changed her into fuzzy footed pajamas, covered with candy canes, and brought her down for more family time before bed.

Lucy looked back at Roman. He was in the kitchen, pulling champagne glasses from the cabinets. Her heart leapt. _Oh, he’s getting ready. This is it_ , she thought.

Roman came into the living room a moment later with a large brown envelope. He sat on the ottoman next to Lucy, taking her hand and lacing their fingers together. She looked at his face. God, he looked more nervous than _she_ was, and Lucy felt ready to jump out of her skin. She smiled at him, warmly, gave his hand a squeeze, and nodded. They were ready.

Roman handed the envelope to Peter. 

“What is this?” Peter said. “This better not be another present, not after the Bucharest tickets.”

Roman and Lucy had sent Peter and Destiny to Bucharest for two weeks before Christmas to visit Lynda and their extended family. 

“Not exactly,” Roman said. He voice was shaking.

Peter reached into the envelope and pulled out two documents. He turned them in his hands and began to read the top page. “These are adoption papers for Nadia,” he said. “You got them? That’s great, man!” Peter grinned.

Roman had spent the entire year working with Pryce and various members of the White Tower’s shady legal department to undo the death certificate on Nadia. Bribes and back-door deals abounded. But Roman was committed to giving Nadia a normal life, with no more sound-proof nursery, no more lies, and no more hiding.

“Read the second page,” Roman said.

Peter turned back to the documents, and flipped to the second page. The smile on his face fell away. After a moment, tears filled his eyes, and his face contorted. He sniffed, loudly. Lucy, ever the sympathetic crier, saw her own vision blur with tears. 

“Peter, what is it?” Destiny asked.

“It’s Nadia’s birth certificate,” he said, his voice hitching and watery. He handed the document to Destiny, unable to speak.

Destiny read. “Nadia Letha Godfrey. Mother’s name, Letha Marie Godfrey. Father’s name…” She trailed off and looked at the both of them in shock. “Peter Rumancek,” she finished. Peter covered his face with both hands.

“That’s the way it should have been,” Roman said, looking at Peter, his own tear rolling down his cheek. “So that’s the way it is.” 

Peter jumped up from the couch, jerked Roman to his feet, and threw his arms around him. Roman hugged him back, hard. They stayed that way for a long time, Peter’s breath hitching. At last, they separated, and by then, Lucy had to get a box of tissues for all of them.

“Here’s the thing,” Roman said. “For the adoption papers to be official, I need a signature from a parent.” He looked hard at Peter. “That’s you,” he said.

Peter sniffed, and smiled through his tears. “Where’s the pen?” he asked.

Lucy handed it to him. “Thank you for this,” she whispered, her bottom lip quivering. 

Peter nodded at her, sat back down, and bent to the ottoman, signing his name on the document. 

Lucy let out a quivering breath. “I think it’s about time for that champagne!” she laughed.

“Not quite yet,” Destiny said.

Lucy looked quizzically at her. And then Roman took both her hands, and she turned her confused look to him.

“Lucy?” he said. He looked so terribly nervous. Lucy was afraid something was very wrong. Mr. Superior Confidence Godfrey never looked like this. She swallowed, thickly. 

“Lucy, I love you,” he continued. “Before I met you, I was empty. I was buried in the dark, and I felt like I’d never crawl out.” Lucy’s heart leapt again. “You changed everything for me,” he said. “You changed _me_. And every day with you is the greatest day of my life. So…”

He dropped to one knee. 

“Oh my God,” Lucy breathed. Her face dissolved into tears.

Roman pulled a small box from his pocket, and opened it, extending it to her. “Lucika, I don’t deserve you, but I’m asking. Will you marry me?”

Lucy didn’t even look at the ring. She dropped to her knees on the floor with Roman. “Yes,” she whispered through her tears, kissed him hard, throwing her arms around his neck. Her overzealous kiss unbalanced them and they fell; Roman landed on his back, with Lucy on top of him. They could hear Destiny and Peter laughing. Lucy pulled back. “Are you okay?” she asked.

“You said ‘yes’ right?” Roman replied.

“Yes.”

“Then yeah, I’m great,” he laughed. 

“I love you, you dope,” she said.

“I love you,” he replied. “Want this?” he asked, holding up the box. 

“You bet your ass,” Lucy replied. She turned to Nadia, who was staring at them with sleepy eyes like they were all insane. “Don’t say bad words, pumpkin.”

Lucy crawled off of him. Roman sat up and pulled the ring from the box, sliding it onto her finger. Lucy looked down at her hand. The ring was exquisite, a giant pearl set in platinum with diamonds arranged like waterlilies on either side. Her breath caught. She looked up at Roman, dumbstruck, and saw the cat-that-ate-the-canary smirk on his face. She slapped his arm. “Ow!” he laughed.

“This is too much!” she yelped.

“No, it’s not. It’s not nearly enough,” he said, his smirk melting into his look of awe and love that made her insides turn to melted wax.

She kissed him again, softly, cupping his face.

“ _Now_ , it’s time for champagne!” Destiny said, laughing. “Jeez, Roman, I thought you were never going to get around to it!”

Ten days later, Roman sat next to Lucy in the Hemlock County courthouse listening to the judge address Shelley. He tried not to squeeze Lucy’s hand too hard, but it was difficult to keep himself in check. He didn’t know how to pray, so he just kept thinking at the judge: _Please send her home with us. Please just send her home with us._

“It is my understanding,” said the judge, “that due to lack of credible evidence, the people wish to drop all charges against Miss Godfrey?”

“We do, your honor,” replied the district attorney.

“So ordered,” the judge said. 

Roman felt a wave of relief wash over him, but only partially. _Please send her home with us_ , he thought again.

“And as so to the challenge of guardianship filed by Roman Godfrey, the court has found it without merit.”

Roman felt kicked in the guts, rage simmering below the cold surface of his face. He wished, not for the first time, that Norman was still alive. He could have testified about Olivia. He could have changed all of this.

The judge addressed Shelley, directly. “Young lady, would you approach the bench, please?” Shelley rose from her seat and walked slowly toward the judge. “Miss Godfrey, I am releasing you into your mother’s care,” the judge said. Shelley didn’t reply. “Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Shelley answered. Her voice was robotic. All Roman wanted to do was run to her, or maybe vault over the table and tear Olivia’s throat out.

The judge continued. “I should warn you that even a legal finding of fact won’t make your troubles disappear, and due to the notoriety of this case, there may be individuals who harbor anger towards you. However misguided, it is real and potentially dangerous. I wish you the best of luck. You’re free to go.”

 _Very helpful, bitch_ , Roman thought.

“Thank you,” Olivia cheered. “Come, on sweetie.”

Roman let go of Lucy’s hand and walked straight to Olivia. “We need to talk. Now,” he said. He led her out into the hallway before he turned back to her. “Don’t think I don’t know what your act is all about,” he spat. “You can’t wait to get your hands on her trust fund.”

Olivia was positively crowing. “Oh Roman, this negativity, it’s not good for your health. I would think your little rusalka nurse would tell you that.”

Roman ignored her. “How long do you think she’s going to stay with you when she finds out you murdered Norman? Huh?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Olivia said, her well-practiced façade of innocence falling into place. 

“Fuck you!” Roman shouted, walking away.

Pryce was in the hallway a moment later, stopping Roman before he could go back into the courtroom. “Roman, calm down,” he said. “Your sister’s mental state is extremely fragile. Any trauma could induce a severe conversion reaction.”

“What does that even mean?” Roman asked.

“If she goes over the edge again, we may never get her back,” Pryce finished.

His words were a heavy weight on Roman’s heart. He watched as Shelley walked out of the courtroom like a ghost, Lucy’s hand on her arm, and that weight became a squeezing in his chest. He looked helplessly at Lucy for a moment, she nodded to him. It was small, but he felt every bit of her we’ll-figure-this-out-look. He walked up to his baby sister, and took her arms. 

“I missed you so much,” he said. Roman cupped her face and kissed her scarred cheek. “You know I love you, right?” Shelley nodded, sadly. He looked deeply into her mismatched eyes. “She’s not your jailer, and this isn’t forever,” he said. “We’re only a phone call away. I’ll make this right, I promise.”

Olivia sidled up to Shelley, giving a cold side-eye to Lucy. “Let’s go home,” she whispered. She look Shelley’s arm and led her toward the front doors of the courthouse, and the jeering crowds outside.

“Wait!” Lucy called. “At least come out the back entrance with us.”

“We’ll not be bullied by the rabble,” Olivia said, turning away.

 _You’re not the one they came to abuse,_ Roman thought.

They both needed a drink. Roman felt so angry, Lucy so helpless. They drove straight from the courthouse to the Socrates Bar, still wearing their courthouse clothes, Roman’s suit, Lucy’s blouse and skirt. Lucy called Destiny from the car and gave her the news about Shelley, asking if she’d mind keeping Nadia for the night. She had a feeling that Roman may be in for a serious drunk tonight. Destiny said she didn’t mind. She liked the extra time with the toddler. 

Roman and Lucy had been taking Nadia for regular visits with Aunt Dezzy, as Nadia called her, for the last several months. Nadia’s language skills were far ahead of those of a normal child shy of two years old. But those were not her only skills. More than once, Roman and Lucy heard Nadia speaking in their minds, when she was anxious, upset, or over-excited. Sometimes it was only a word or two. Sometimes full sentences or even pictures. Once, when Nadia fell and bumped her head on the arm of a chair, Lucy actually felt the pain in her own forehead, and saw an image of that same chair being broken apart with a big cartoon hammer. 

They’d decided to go to Destiny for help the day they found Nadia’s blocks levitating around her as she played with them on the ottoman. Destiny began spending one-on-one time with her regularly, as a kind of psychic Hogwarts pre-school, helping her learn about her abilities, to strengthen and control them, developing them like a muscle. 

Destiny didn’t seem to mind. Between her new ventures teaching yoga and belly dance, and the pay Roman and Lucy insisted on for her sessions with Nadia (as well as regular batches of the Tears of Tefnut), she was able to cut out the sex work altogether (other than the occasional session for her own enjoyment, or course).

“I just wanted her home, with us,” Roman said dejectedly. He nodded to the bartender for another shot of Maker’s Mark. The bar grew more crowded as the sun went down, but they’d grabbed a couple of barstools early. “She would have been safer, happier.”

“I know,” Lucy said. She’d ordered a small glass of port, but it sat on the bar untouched. “You did everything you could. If they’d had the whole story, there’s no way they would have let her leave with Olivia.”

“If they had the whole story, they wouldn’t let her leave with me either,” Roman said. 

Lucy squeezed his hand. What could she say? He was right about that. “So, we’ll keep trying,” she said. “We can keep filing for appeal, maybe figure out a way she can legally emancipate herself, something like that. I know Dr. Pryce would help.”

“Yeah,” Roman said, knocking back his shot.

Pryce had, shockingly enough, become a confidant in the last year. The tragedy of Prycilla’s death at Olivia’s hands had cut all his loyalties to Roman’s mother. He still provided her with nutrient; he wouldn’t be responsible for more deaths if she went feral, but he was no longer her stool pigeon. He remained Nadia’s doctor, and had developed a friendlier rapport with both Roman and Lucy. As friendly Johann Pryce was able to manage, anyway.

“Tell me some good news,” Roman said, turning to Lucy, his face softening.

Lucy made a dramatic thinking face, drawing a smile from Roman. “Oh!” she said at last. “Destiny became an ordained minister in the State of Pennsylvania. Did you know you can just do that online?”

Roman’s smile widened. “Oh yeah?” he said.

“Yeah!” Lucy said. “She can marry us, now. She’s our psychic witchy-poo minister.” Her face grew falsely pensive. “It’s very _us_ , don’t you think?”

“Very,” he said with a smirk. He leaned forward, laying his hand on her knee, and sliding it upward, just under the edge of her skirt.

She placed her hand over his before he could go higher. “Mr. Godfrey!” she said with mock indignation. “Whatever are you up to?”

“I’d say mid-thigh, but I was hoping for more,” he said. That predatory look in his eyes hit her in that way it always did, making her skin warm, stirring that want inside her.

“Do you think I’m the kind of girl who’d let you touch me like that where everyone could see?” she cooed. She leaned forward, her mouth drawing close to his, almost close enough to brush her lips against his. “I think I’d need another drink first at least,” she whispered against his mouth. 

Roman abruptly turned away from her. “Bartender!” he shouted. 

Lucy broke into laughter, and Roman seized the back of her neck, pulling her in for a kiss. When their kiss broke, Lucy noticed the woman staring intensely at them from the far side of the bar. She was runway-model gorgeous, with long black curls, deep brown eyes, full lips. At first, Lucy thought the woman might be judging them for kissing in the middle of the bar, but after a moment, she noticed the soft come-hither smirk on the woman’s face.

Lucy nodded at her. “I think you have another admirer,” she said.

Roman turned and saw the woman, who brazenly stared back at him. Lucy smirked. She was used to it by now. Roman was devilishly handsome, suave, rich, sexy. Any heterosexual woman with a pulse found him irresistible, and it gave Lucy a boost in the self-esteem to know that he was hers. _Look all you like_ , she thought. I’ll _be the one coming in his bed tonight._

Roman looked back at Lucy with a smirk, but he had a strange look in his eyes. “How do you know she’s not _your_ admirer?” he asked.

“I don’t think so, baby,” she replied. She looked back at the woman, and felt the inexplicable need to get away from her. Lucy raised an eyebrow at Roman, and shamelessly palmed him through his pants. His breath caught. She stood up from her stool and brought her lips to his ear. “It’s hot in here. Why don’t you take me outside?” she whispered.

Roman threw cash on the bar, took her hand, and pulled her out the side door of the bar before she could change her mind. By then, she noticed with some satisfaction, the woman was gone. 

Once they were out the door, Lucy pulled him into the alleyway behind the bar. Roman pushed her against the brick wall of the building and attacked her mouth, sliding his tongue between her lips to move against hers. Lucy moaned into his mouth, pulling him hard against her by the lapels of his coat. He ground his hips against her stomach, letting her feel his thick, rigid length. She broke the kiss and moved her lips down his jaw to his neck, loving the sound of his panting breaths. He brought his hands up under her coat and cupped her breasts, squeezing and massaging them. She nipped his neck and suddenly slapped his hands away, drawing a shocked gasp from him. Lucy’s hands went to his pants, opening his belt buckle, pulling the button free, drawing down the zipper. She slid her hand into his trousers, under the waistband of his boxer briefs, and gripped him. “Jesus,” he breathed, puffs of dragon smoke rose in the cold.

She stroked him, twisting her hand on each upstroke. He moaned, and she bit her lip. His sounds always made her throb and slicken. She looked into his eyes, half-hooded in pleasure. “I can’t wait,” she whispered. “I want to make you come right out here. Will you let me do that?”

“Fuck,” he whispered, as she squeezed him. “Yes… Unh…”

Lucy pulled her hand from him. She seized the lapels of his coat against and turned them, pressing his back to the wall. She dipped her tongue into the notch at the base of his neck, and began to drop to her knees. 

“Wait,” he said. She looked up at him, questioningly. Roman shrugged out of his overcoat and laid it on the pavement. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“Such a gentleman,” Lucy crooned with a smirk, and knelt on his coat. 

She pulled the velvety steel of him from the fly of his trousers, stroking him again. She ran the flat of her tongue from the base all the way to the tip, where she swirled her tongue around him. He huffed breath into the air. She closed her lips over him and took him all the way to the back of her throat, keeping her fingers around the base of him. She pulled back, flicking her tongue over the ridges of him, until she reached the tip, and then she sucked hard. 

“Fuuck,” he moaned. 

She sucked him in earnest now, increasing her pace, moaning around him to let him feel the vibrations. His fingers slid through her hair. She took him deep on every down stroke, sucked powerfully on every upstroke. She slithered her other hand into his trousers, cupping his balls as he panted helplessly.

Roman suddenly felt eyes on him. He opened his eyes against the sweet silky pulling at his cock, and found the woman from earlier staring at them from the far end of the alley. When he’d noticed her in the bar earlier, there was something about her that made the hair on the back of his neck prickle. It happened again as she watched them. Roman felt like an ass. His fiancé, his love, the fucking gorgeous woman who’d saved his world was sucking him like a goddamn porn star. So what made this woman trigger such an odd fight or flight reaction in him? It couldn’t be her beauty. Beautiful women tried to seduce him all the time. The look she gave him had a definite fuck-me vibe to it, but there was something else about too, wasn’t there? Something like predator and prey. Who or what was she? He wanted to say something, tell her fuck off or join the party, but she was gone a moment later.

He shook her from his thoughts as Lucy picked up the pace even more. It was building in him now, that sweet fucking ache to explosion. He felt his balls begin to draw up, his breath hitching. “Fuck, Lucy,” he panted. “Oh… Baby I’m… I’m gonna come.” She didn’t stop, didn’t even slow down, and he found himself coming into her mouth with a stuttering moan. She kept sucking him through every shudder, and when he was finally empty, she pulled away softly, and tucked him into his pants. 

She stood up from the pavement, and he crushed her to him, kissing the mouth that brought him to pieces. 

“You’re in so much trouble when we get home,” he said at last.

Lucy tried to kiss him again when Roman shut the door to their house, but he pushed her back. She looked at him with a smirking pout. “Don’t look at me like that,” he said. The look on his face was pure dark sexy evil. “I want you to go back to the bedroom, and take off everything but your panties. I’ll be there in just a minute.” The command in his voice sent lightning bolts between her legs.

She scooted back to their bedroom, shucking her blouse, her skirt, her bra. She left on the bangle he’d given her last Christmas. She sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for him, trying to will her heart to slow. She had no idea what he had planned, but the excitement of it set her nipples to hard points, and she knew her panties were embarrassingly damp, after their alleyway tryst and now this. 

A few moments later, Roman walked into the bedroom and shut the door. He was carrying something, a box, which he laid on the dresser. He looked down at her as she sat back on the bed, leaning on the hands planted behind her, her nipples pointed up at him. He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth. 

Lucy moved to stand, to kiss him, but he shook his head at her. “No,” he said. “You stay right there.” 

He watched her watching him as he shrugged out of his sport coat and pulled his shirt over his head. He didn’t look away from her as he unbuckled his belt, and pulled off his trousers, boxer briefs and socks in one practiced move. _Show off_ , Lucy thought. He stood naked before her. He was hard again, and Lucy couldn’t help rubbing her thighs together, trying to get some kind of friction. She didn’t think she’d ever been this wet in her entire life. It was a little embarrassing. 

Roman turned away from her, and opened the box on the dresser. He pulled out a length of black cloth, and walked around her. Lucy felt the bed dip behind her under his weight, and then he brought the cloth around her face and over her eyes. It was a blindfold. _Holy shit_ , Lucy thought. He tied the ends behind her head.

“That stays on until I take it off,” he whispered. He pulled her backward in his arms, helping her to lay back onto the pillow. “Put your hands up against the headboard,” he said. Lucy did as she was told. “I want you to leave them there until I tell you you can move them. Can you do that?”

“Yes,” Lucy said. Her voice was more pant than anything.

“Good,” he said. And then he was gone for a moment. 

Lucy tried to calm her breathing. She was aroused beyond belief. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears; she could feel it in her nipples, in her swollen clit. 

And then she felt him return, felt him open her legs to settle over his hips and he knelt on the mattress. He leaned forward and kissed her, sliding his tongue inside her mouth, sucking her bottom lip. He broke the kiss, and rained more open mouthed kisses down her jaw, her throat, her collar bones. He kissed over the tops of her breasts and finally laved his tongue over one of her hard nipples. Lucy practically sobbed has he sucked it into his mouth, flicking his tongue over it. He gave the same attention to her other nipple, and Lucy bucked her hips helplessly, almost involuntarily. He chuckled, darkly against her breast.

He pulled away from her, and Lucy was alone in the dark again. 

He returned again, and Lucy expected more kisses, his lips, his hands. Instead, a hard cylinder of slick plastic, buzzing, vibrating, ran over her nipple. “Shit!” she squeaked, and jumped away from him. “What is that?”

She felt his lips against her ear. “A toy,” he whispered. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes?” she answered as if it were another question. 

He laughed again. “Good,” he said. “I think you’ll like this.”

He ran the vibrator over each of her nipples, and Lucy began to pant again. He drew it between her breasts, down her stomach to the line of her panties. Then he trailed it over her cloth-covered pussy, where her legs were spread around him. Lucy moaned, helplessly. 

“Does that feel good?” Roman drawled.

“Yes,” she breathed. 

Roman bent over her, and she felt his hot breath against the skin of her belly button. He kissed her there softly, making her squirm, and then he took the waistband of her panties in his teeth and drew them down her legs.

He returned to her, moving her legs back into their spread position on either side of his knees. “Jesus,” he breathed. “Look at you. You’re practically dripping.” Lucy could only pant in response. 

Then she felt him bring the vibrator up, running it over her inner thighs, over the crease where were her inner thighs met her hip bones, so close to where she wanted it, wanted anything, before he moved it away. 

“Roman, please,” she whimpered.

“Please, what?” he crooned.

“Please… please touch me,” she begged.

“I am touching you,” he teased. “Did you want me to touch you somewhere in particular?”

“Yes… please,” she said. 

“Use your words, baby.” She could hear the smile in his voice, and wanted to slap his beautiful face while she fucked his brains out. 

“Please touch my cunt,” she moaned. “My clit, anything please.”

“Well, since you were so polite,” he said. And he laid the vibrator directly against her clit. 

She moaned loudly, her back arching up from the bed. Roman kept in against her, circling it around her swollen button. She was too excited. She came in less than a minute it seemed, shouting his name. 

He pulled the vibrator back, letting her come down, caressing her inner thigh. “Was that good?” he asked.

“Oh God, yes,” she said.

“Good,” he said. “I want to see you do it again.” And he slid the vibrator inside her, turning the setting up to medium. 

“Oh! Roman, fuck!” she cried, still so sensitive from her orgasm. 

He worked the vibrator in and out of her. As turned on and terribly wet as she was, the sound of Roman moving it was practically obscene. “You’re so fucking pretty like this,” he said. “Sweet pussy so wet, so swollen pink.”

Lucy blushed at his words. Roman’s absolutely filthy dirty talk should have scandalized her. Instead, it made her even more aroused. 

Roman moved back on the bed and lowered his mouth to her, keeping the toy inside her. Lucy keened as he laved her swollen clit. He moved the vibrator faster inside her, licking her over and over and over. She wanted to touch him so badly, to bury her hands in his hair, but she kept her hands above her head as he’d told her. She felt like she was losing her mind. Lucy was babbling. “Ooooh, oh please, mmm, oh fuck please, Roman, unh…”

And then he sucked her clit into his mouth and flicked his tongue over it in a blur. Lucy cried out as she came again, bucking into his face. He pulled the vibrator from her, as she quaked through the aftershocks. 

Lucy’s breasts heaved with her breath. “Oh God,” she panted. “Oh God.”

Roman was panting too. “You look so fucking beautiful when you come,” he said. 

Lucy felt him shift their position, pulling her hips up onto his lap with her legs wrapped around him, her achingly sensitive center against his hard cock. “I want to see you do it again,” he growled. He lined himself up with her and slid inside her. As wet as she was, it was like sliding a hot knife into butter. Lucy moaned again. Everything was so heightened, so sensitive, and Roman was so much larger that the cylinder of the vibrator he’d used on her. It intensity of sensation almost hurt, but Lucy had never felt so debauched, so utterly terribly sexy.

Roman moved within her, he hips rolling and snapping. The position left Lucy no leverage to move with him, she could only take what he gave her. And she knew from this angle, he was watching the place where they joined, watching every slick plunge inside her. She wanted to see his face. She wanted to tear off this blindfold, but she wouldn’t. 

“Mmm,” she whimpered.

“That’s it,” he cooed. “Tell me how it feels.”

“Good,” she moaned. “So good… You’re so… big… ah…”

“You feel so fucking good. You’re so tight, so fucking dripping wet… Fuck,” he said. He voice was pinched. She knew that sound. He wasn’t going to last. “I want you to come again,” he growled. And he turned the vibrator back on to its highest setting, and pressed it to her clit.

Lucy screamed. She was so sensitive and the stimulation was terribly intense. “Roman!” she cried bucking against him. “I can’t! I can’t! It’s too much!”

His hips began to snap harder. “Yes, you can,” he growled. “You can. I want to feel you come. I want you to come so fucking hard.”

“Oh, oh, oh, oh!” Lucy cried over and over. The stimulation of Roman pounding her, of the vibrator against her engorged clit, she thought she might actually explode. The building inside was like nothing she’d ever experienced. It felt like her entire body was coiling tightly. 

“That’s it. Oh fuck, that’s it,” Roman said. “Fucking squeeze me. Fuck!” Roman tore the blindfold from her eyes.

Lucy took one look at Roman’s beautiful face, his irises blown wide with lust, he panting mouth hanging open, and she came again. Her orgasm was like nothing she’d ever experienced. It was as if her entire body were coming all at once. She arched off the bed, only the top of her head touching the mattress. She screamed. Her brain felt like it had flatlined. She heard Roman roar as he came inside her, but the sound was far away. 

She collapsed onto the mattress, eyes closed, breath shaking. Roman turned off the vibrator and tossed it away, pulling out of her with a gasp and falling on the bed next to her. After a moment, he turned to her. “Are you alright?” he asked. His voice sounded almost sheepish. 

“I think you’ve ruined me…” Lucy breathed. “I’ve never come that hard ever.” She caught another breath. “And I’m extremely fucking old.”

“It’s a good thing you’re marrying me then,” he said. He brushed a hand lightly over her mound. 

Lucy jumped hard and slapped his hand away. “Uh-uh,” she said. “No more. I think I’m going to be sore in the morning.”

“Sorry,” he laughed.

“No you’re not,” she said. “Neither am I.” She looked at his flushed face. “I love you,” she said.

“I love you,” he returned, and he kissed her. 

Later that night, as Lucy slept curled against him, Roman’s mind returned to the woman from the bar. It felt wrong to be thinking of her, but couldn’t help it. He’s never met anyone who so instantly set his teeth on edge. He loved Lucy. He was sure of that. So what was it about this woman? Was it lust? Was he returning to the old Roman who used and misused and fucked without caring? He didn’t want that to be the answer. It had to be something else. But if he tried to find out, would he be pursuing the wrong path? Falling into a trap? Falling backward? He squeezed Lucy closer and tried not to think of brown eyes staring from the darkness.

Roman left work early the next day and went back to the Socrates Bar. He didn’t tell Lucy he was going. It felt shitty, but he honestly didn’t know how to explain to her why he was going there. _Baby, I’m going to the bar to find the smoking hot woman who watched you suck my dick last night. I promise there’s nothing fishy about this._ At best, it made him look like an asshole; at worst, it would break her heart. Yet, here he was. And he couldn’t explain it to himself any better than he could have explained it to her.

He approached the bartender.

“What are you thirsting for?” the man drawled. 

_Don’t fucking say thirsting, man_ , Roman thought. _I already feel weird about this._ “I’m looking for someone,” he said.

The bartender laughed. “Here I was worried I’d be replaced by a dating app.” 

Roman ignored him. “She was here last night, dark eyes, black hair, black dress,… beautiful.” _Might as well call a spade a spade._

“What time exactly did you see this vision?” the bartender asked. “I mean, depending on how late and how much you were drinking, it gives me an idea of how beautiful we’re talking.”

Roman sighed. “Seriously beautiful,” he repeated.

“You’re not some type of douche-bag ex are you?” the bartender asked.

“If I was an ex, don’t you think I’d know her name?” Roman quipped.

“You’d be surprised,” he returned.

Roman rolled his eyes, reached into the pocket of his coat, laid a large bill on the bar, sliding it to the bartender. The man swiped it into his pocket. “Ramos Fizz with a shake of nutmeg,” the bartender said. “She’s been coming here the past few nights.”

“Did you catch a name?” Roman asked.

“Drinks I remember,” the bartender replied. “Come tonight. Maybe you’ll get lucky.”

Roman frowned. _Is that what he was after? When Lucy was at home waiting for him? What was he doing here? What the fuck was wrong with him? And why was he so sure he’d tell another lie to come back here later?_

“Fuck,” he hissed through his teeth.

Roman told Lucy he’d be home late, a special late working session with the marketing department. The lie felt ugly. He felt ugly. But that didn’t stop him from sitting in the Socrates Bar, a glass of bourbon untouched in front of him. It was early, the bar wasn’t crowded yet, and he had room to stare into his glass and tell himself what as asshole he was.

And suddenly she was there. She plopped down on the barstool next to him like they were old friends. “Alone tonight?” she asked in a French accent. “Where’s your friend? The one from last night?”

Roman looked at her, wide eyed. That feeling returned, the hair prickling on the back of his neck, his teeth on edge. He said nothing for a moment, looking only at her face, puzzled by his own reaction. She was beautiful, and any other time, the little black dress she was wearing would have him laying on the charm, but he was too conflicted, too confused to dwell on her beauty. He shook himself from his stupor enough to speak to the bartender. “Ramos fizz, shake of nutmeg for the lady,” he said.

She smirked. “Seems like you made it your business to find out my drink of choice,” she said. “You wouldn’t be stalking me…”

“I could say the same thing about you,” he said. He extended his hand. “I’m Roman.”

“Godfrey,” she finished. “I know.”

His phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket. Lucy’s name displayed on the screen. _Shit_ , he thought.

“Are you really going to answer that?” she asked

“Give me a minute,” he said. He stepped away from the bar, and swiped the screen. “Hey,” he answered.

“Hey, I don’t mean to bother you,” Lucy said. “I just wanted to know if you’d be home for dinner or if you want me to keep something in the fridge for you.”

“Don’t bother,” he said. “I’ll be a while longer. I’ll get something when I get home.”

“Okay,” she said. “I love you.”

“Yeah,” he whispered. “I love you too.” And he hung up with a pang of guilt. 

He turned back to the bar, and the woman was gone. He never drank his bourbon.

Roman took a walk, his mind filled with thoughts of the woman, thoughts of Lucy, thoughts of self-loathing. Lucy loved him. He loved her. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. And yet he had a serious physical reaction to the woman in the bar. Was he that much of a lust-filled monster? 

Before long, he found himself standing outside of the old St. Augustine Catholic Church on Hemlock Avenue. He looked up at the steeple, the stained glass façade, and he laughed mirthlessly. “Why the fuck not?” he muttered, and went inside.

He found the confessional just inside the main doors, and ducked inside. Maybe this was stupid. It probably was. There was a priest on the other side of the scrim that covered one side of the confessional. Roman could hear him breathing. After a moment, when Roman said nothing, the priest spoke.

“Is there something you want to tell me?” he asked. Roman said nothing. “Most folks start with how long it’s been since their last confession”

“I’m not here for that,” Roman said. 

“Then why are you here?” the priest asked.

“I needed a sounding board,” Roman said. “I’ve already been to a bar, and I don’t see my favorite hooker anymore, so…”

“I’m the next best thing,” the priest finished.

“Something like that, yeah,” Roman said. He sighed. “Something’s going on with me,” he said. “I have a fiancé, and I love her. She changed things for me.” 

He sighed again. “But I keep seeing this woman in town, and I have this reaction when I see her. It’s not a hard on, although she’s gorgeous, and would give one to any guy… Well, maybe not you... Or maybe you?” He smirked. 

The priest said nothing. Roman’s smirk fell away as he continued. “Anyway, I feel like I need to know who she is. I need to know why she makes me feel like this. And I need to know if it’s because I want to fuck her, like the old me would, or if it’s something else.”

“God gave you free will,” the priest said. “You have a choice.” Roman said nothing. The priest continued. “Not that it matters, but I assume you’re not of the faith.”

“You could tell?” Roman quipped. 

“But you do seem to be carrying guilt,” he said. “The thing is, you can make the right choices in your life, to do right in the eyes of God and for yourself, but that doesn’t mean that temptation goes away. Temptation is always there. Now, just because you feel tempted, that doesn’t mean the good in your life is undone. What matters is whether you give in to that temptation. You have to ask yourself: what kind of man do you _want_ to be?”

Roman thought of Lucy, the first time her smile cut through him, the scarf she’d made for him, the hurt look in her eyes when he’d lashed out at her last New Year’s, her breastfeeding Nadia before she was weaned. He thought of her kiss, making love to her, when she’d told him that she loved him without fear. He thought of almost losing her. He knew what kind of man he wanted to be. He wanted to be the man Lucy saw in him.

“Thanks,” Roman whispered. “Thanks, Father.”

It was late when Roman got home. He checked on Nadia, asleep in her creep upstairs, and on Lucy, asleep in their bedroom. He kissed her temple softly before he went to the kitchen. 

He was starved. He opened the fridge and took out a beaker of Pryce’s nutrient. Pryce had given him a small supply to keep at home. He wasn’t dependent on it. He had the Tears. But the nutrient was a super pick-me-up, a sort of upir energy drink when he was feeling low. A sip or two and he was a new undead man. He upcapped the beaker and took a few swallows. 

He was suddenly, violently pulled backwards and thrown to the floor. Someone jumped on him, growling snarling. Long-taloned hands clawed at his chest. Roman held the claws away, looking up at his attacker. He couldn’t see its face, a hood obscured its features, but he could see its mouth, a gaping, drooling maw from which the smell of old rot choked him. Suddenly, one of the dining chairs came down with force over his attacker’s back, exploding into pieces. The thing jumped off of him, running for the person behind them, the one who’d used the chair. Roman rolled and turned to see a shadow beating the hooded figure with the remnants of the chair. The hood ran off, clutching an arm. It disappeared with the sound of breaking glass.

Roman grabbed a knife from the kitchen counter and turned on the light. The woman from the bar stood in his kitchen, holding the remains of a broken chair leg. 

Lucy ran out of the bedroom a moment later, in her Twilight Zone t shirt and panties. “What happened?!” she said. “Roman, are you…” She trailed off when she saw the dark haired woman standing there. The same woman who’d eyed Roman at the bar, was standing in their kitchen in the middle of the night.

“You!” Roman said to the woman. “What the fuck was that?!” He leaned to look around her. The figure had crashed out right through the glass front door. 

The dark haired woman said nothing. She walked past Lucy without a second look, and picked up the beaker of nutrient from the floor. Miraculously, it hadn’t broken. She brought it to her lips.

“Don’t!” Roman said, but she was already taking a swallow.

She made no grimace. She didn’t spit or gag. She simply capped the beaker and wiped the excess blood and flesh from her mouth.

Roman didn’t drop the knife. He stepped between the woman and Lucy, and brandished the blade at her. “Who are you?” he asked.

She stared at Roman, and the corners of her mouth turned up in a sly smile. “My name is Annie,” she said, “and I’m just like you.” 


	2. Walking the Dead

Roman woke up on the couch, his battle axe across his knees. 

He’d spent the night there, afraid the man, the thing, whatever it was, would come back. Lucy tried to make him come to the bed with her and Nadia, but he refused. He’d already been wracked with anxiety about it being in the house in the first place. How long had it been there before it attacked him? How long was it skulking around his house with his woman and his baby? 

He rubbed his eyes, and stood from the couch. It was morning, and the thing hadn’t returned. He walked back to the bedroom, and peaked in. Lucy and Nadia were curled together in the blankets, the early morning sun hadn’t woken them yet. He closed the door, softly. He’d let them sleep a while longer.

He grabbed his coffee cup from the cupboard, a white porcelain mug with a handprint on the side in pink paint. The word “Daddy,” was scrawled in more pink paint on the side of the cup, a homemade Christmas present from Nadia. He poured a shot of nutrient into it and slugged it back. A little extra energy couldn’t hurt this morning.

“Rich people always have the best bathrooms,” Annie’s voice made him jump, and he almost knocked the cup from the counter. 

She was walking into the kitchen in a robe, drying her hair with a towel. They asked her to stay in one of the guest rooms last night, but Roman had assumed she’d already left. Now, here she was, bold as brass, barely dressed in their kitchen. 

“I thought you split,” he said. He sounded awkward. He didn’t know the most polite way to say “could you please put some clothes on.”

“It’s a beautiful day,” she said, “and that meth-head is somewhere else by now.”

“Yeah, that wasn’t a meth-head,” Roman replied. “I’m not even sure it was human. Whatever the fuck it was, it went straight for my chest.”

“Yeah, but you’re safe now,” Annie said.

The door opened behind Roman, and Lucy walked out with Nadia on her hip. The toddler was rubbing her eyes with one little fist. Lucy stopped short, seeing Annie in her robe. Her eyebrows seemed to hit her hairline, and she looked at Roman and back to Annie. “Um, good morning,” she said, awkwardly.

“And I should be getting back to my hotel,” Annie said. She spoke to Roman, without acknowledging Lucy. She turned and walked back toward the stairs.

Roman turned at touched Lucy’s arm, a gesture that said “I’m sorry. Just give me a minute.”

Lucy nodded, and set Nadia in her chair, setting about starting breakfast.

Roman stopped Annie at the stairs. “Before you go, I need to ask… How often do you feed?”

“When I get hungry,” she replied.

“What do you do with the bodies?” he asked in a whisper. He looked back toward Nadia. She paid no attention.

“You actually think I kill people?” she replied.

“Don’t you?” he asked.

“No,” she said. “I mean, not anymore. It’s not like we’re still living in the Dark Ages. Hasn’t anyone shown you?”

“Shown me what?”

“How to live in the wild,” she said.

“I have a system,” he said. “I haven’t fed from a person in a long time. But I’m the only upir I know.”

Annie looked at Lucy and Nadia with an eyebrow raised for a moment, but then looked back to him. “What about your parents?” she asked.

Roman sneered at the mention of Olivia. “I’m a self-starter,” he quipped.

“Well, I don’t go around butchering people,” Annie said. 

“So school me,” he said.

“Most of us work in jobs that keep us close to blood: doctors, lab techs, EMTs.”

“Where do you fit in?” he asked.

“ER nurse,” she replied. 

He chuckled. “Must be like a kid in a candy store.”

The front door opened, suddenly, and Peter walked in. It was Friday. Peter always stopped by the house early on Friday mornings. That was the day Destiny used the trailer for her Woodland Morning Yoga Class, and Peter hated dealing with ten middle aged women in spandex and lavender oil right outside his door, or barging in to use the toilet.

“Roman?!” he called. He stopped short at the scene in front of him. Roman was talking to a gorgeous dark haired woman on the stairs. She was in a bathrobe. Lucy was in the kitchen, giving yogurt and berries to Nadia. “The fuck?” he murmured.

Roman and Peter shut the door to the bedroom to talk. “Do you think this had anything to do with the white masks?” Peter asked.

“I guess it’s possible, but it doesn’t seem like their style,” Roman said. “This guy came after me, but not Nadia.” He sighed and scrubbed at his face. “We have to find out either way.”

“Fine,” Peter said. “Now you can answer my other question. Why the fuck is there a random naked chick in your house?! Do you or do you not have a fiancé? And why is that fiancé in the same room with the random naked chick right now like its no big deal? What is happening?” Peter’s eyes widened. “Did you guys have a three-way?”

Roman pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay. That was several questions. One, she’s not naked. She has a robe on. And trust me, I feel as weird about her walking around like that as you do. Two, I’d be dead if it wasn’t for her. She followed me home last night, I guess.” 

Peter looked incredulous. “I know it’s weird. I know,” Roman said. “But she fought that thing off and saved me. 

“Three, Lucy asked her to stay in case it came back.” Peter’s eyebrows raised. “And she slept upstairs,” Roman said through his teeth. 

“And four, I just found out she’s an upir.” Peter looked even more surprised. “She tracked me down somehow,” Roman said. “She said she was looking for others like her.”

“So she’s stalking you,” Peter quipped. 

“It’s not that simple,” Roman said.

“Okay. So, with everything you’ve got going on right now, you think you can trust her just because she’s an upir?” Peter asked.

“I don’t know,” Roman said. “If she wanted to hurt me, or Lucy, or Nadia, she could have let that thing last night finish the job, but she didn’t. And the only other upir I know is Olivia. I think she can tell me… how I fit in to things in general.”

Peter nodded. “Just be careful,” he said. “There’s something about her being here that feels wrong.”

“Duly noted,” Roman replied.

Destiny came through the door later that morning to pick up Nadia. “Hey there!” she called. “Where’s my girl?”

“Aunt Dezzy!” Nadia ran to her, and Destiny scooped her up onto her hip. She nodded to the broken glass in the door. “What happened here?!”

“Someone broke in,” Peter said. 

“Not someone, something,” Roman corrected her.

“You don’t know that,” Annie said.

“No, I think I do,” Roman replied.

Destiny looked at Lucy. “Who the fuck is this?” she asked, pointing to Annie. 

“Don’t say bad words, pumpkin,” Lucy said to Nadia. Lucy looked at Destiny with a distinct, don’t-even-get-me-started look in her eyes. Even Peter’s shrug said how-the-fuck-should-I-know.

“I’m Annie,” she said. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise, I’m sure,” Destiny said. Her voice was dreamlike. She was already staring at the point of blood on a piece of broken glass. She handed Nadia to Lucy robotically. “Don’t let her watch this,” she whispered, and Lucy turned Nadia’s face away. Destiny bent and pulled the bloody chip of glass loose, examined it, then put it in her mouth.

“What is she doing?!” Annie exclaimed.

Destiny stood, her pupils dilated, her breathing erratic. She walked through the house, staring, panting. At last, she began coughing and retching. She spewed the piece of glass onto the table. Annie grabbed her and forced her into a chair. 

“We need to take her to a hospital,” Annie said.

“I’m fine,” Destiny said, trying to shew her away. “I’m fine.”

“No, this is serious,” Annie said. 

“I’m fine,” Destiny said. She pushed Annie away and reached for Lucy, who came to her.

“You could have some internal bleeding,” Annie said. “Trust me, I’m a nurse.”

“So am I,” Lucy said, calmly, putting an arm around Destiny. “She’ll be alright. She’s a psychic. She sometimes sees visions through ingestion.”

“So what was it?” Roman asked her.

“I don’t know,” Destiny said. “I don’t wanna.” She breathed, shakily. “But after it attacked you, I think it went to that mortuary on Holden Street.”

Lucy looked up at Roman. “What do you think?”

“We should check it out,” he replied.

“What do you think?” Lucy asked Destiny. “Feeling up to it?”

“Yeah,” Destiny said, “I think so.”

“I’m coming too,” Annie said. 

“Well, Peter,” Lucy said, waggling her eyebrows. “How’d you like baby duty?”

“I’m not a baby!” Nadia pouted.

Lucy rolled her eyes. “Okay. Peter, how’d you like sophisticated woman of the world duty?”

“Shouldn’t I go instead?” he offered.

“I don’t think so,” Lucy said. “If something bad happens, I can… you know… do my thing.” She looked furtively at Annie. “But if you go and something happens… It’s the middle of the day, Peter.” She looked pointedly at him. He sighed.

“Show me all the good cartoons, monkey!” Peter said, chasing a giggling Nadia into the living room.

“I’ll send over the same guys to rehang the door later today,” Roman said. 

“Same guys?!” Annie scoffed. “How often do you have break-ins?”

“You’d be surprised,” Lucy murmured.

Roman led Lucy, Destiny, and Annie to the mortuary. They ducked under the bright yellow police caution tape strung across the entrance. Roman punched a fist through the glass pane at the top of the employees’ entrance, and pushed the latch, throwing the door open. 

A moment later they were in the laboratory. Small orange cones marked a giant pool of thick congealed blood on the floor. The thing that attacked Roman found another victim here. They’d heard it on the radio on the drive over. Destiny ran her fingertips over the embalming table, the chemical bottles, a set of tubing. “Shit,” she muttered, stepping over the blood puddle.

“What?” Roman asked.

“I’m getting a lot of noise,” she replied. “Nothing specific, but there is definitely something not right here.”

“No shit, something’s not right here,” he spat. “Look at this place. A lady had her heart torn out in here.”

“Don’t be a dick,” Lucy deadpanned. He shrugged.

“Mortuaries are like cemeteries,” Destiny said. “It’s like being tuned in to a hundred different radio stations at once.”

“Look, this thing was after me,” Roman said, frustrated. “What are we dealing with here?”

“Why don’t you guys take a look around, and let me do my thing,” she said, obviously annoyed. 

“Alright,” Roman conceded.

“I should stay here at least,” Lucy said, “just in case it comes back.” Destiny raised an eyebrow at her. “I promise, I’ll be quiet as a mouse. No distractions.”

“Are you alright here?” Annie asked them.

“We’ll be okay,” Lucy replied.

“Yeah, I’m totally down with the dead,” Destiny replied. “They don’t lie, they don’t pick their noses,…” She raised an eyebrow at Roman. “And they don’t break your heart.”

The basement of the mortuary was just under the lab, and was lined with large metal drums, each with their own pipes and refrigeration units beneath. 

“What’s this?” Roman asked. He lifted the metal handle that opened the lid on the one of the drums and found gallons of dark red blood with bits of flesh floating in it.

“I think it’s dinner,” Annie said.

“Holy shit,” Roman chuckled.

Annie found two tin cups in an open cupboard nearby. “Most mortuaries just wash the blood and guts down the drain,” she said.

“Then why keep it in tanks?” Roman asked.

“Some turn it over to medical waste companies,” she replied. There was a tap at the bottom of the drum, and Annie opened it to fill their cups. She handed one to Roman.

“Medical waste, huh?” Roman said, wrinkling his nose as he looked into his cup.

“Okay, be a snob,” Annie quipped. “How do you get by without feeding on the living, anyway? Does your girlfriend, the other nurse, steal blood for you? Something like that?”

“I told you, I have a system,” Roman said. “And she’s not my girlfriend. She’s my fiancé.”

Annie raised an eyebrow. “Well. À votre santé!” she said, and held up her cup in a toast. She brought it to her mouth for a swallow. Roman joined her in a taste.

Annie made a disgusted noise, while Roman drained his cup. “What?” he said, looking at her revolted face.

“It’s cold,” she complained.

“Now who’s the snob,” he quipped. “Anyway, it’s refrigerated. You can see the units underneath.”

Roman saw realization in Annie’s eyes. “Come with me,” she said, leading him back upstairs.

In the morgue, Lucy and Destiny had found the cold storage drawers where the morticians had keep the bodies for preparation. They’d opened the drawer of an old gentleman, and Destiny held her palms over his face. She closed her eyes. “What did you see?” she whispered.

Roman and Annie walked back into the room. “May I?” Annie asked. “I have an idea.”

“Knock yourself out,” Destiny said. “I’m getting nothing.”

Annie lifted and tilted the body sideways, revealing the mottled purple skin of his back. Destiny made a disgusted “ew.”

“It’s just blood,” Annie said, turning away from her.

“It’s called lividity,” Lucy said. “When you’re heart stops beating, gravity makes the blood in your body settle to the bottom.”

Annie pushed the drawer back in and closed the door. “We found refrigerated blood downstairs.” She read the door’s label. “Renal failure. That means unfiltered.” She read the label of another door. “Drug overdose. Nope. Here we go,” she said, seeing the label of another drawer. “Gunshot wound.” 

She opened the drawer and pulled out the body of a young adult man. She lifted and tilted his body sideways as she had before. The man’s back was as gray as his front. “See this?” she said. “No blood. He’s been completely drained. The owner of this mortuary, the one who got her chest ripped out, she was upir. The blood downstairs was her stash, and it was some bottom-shelf shit. But a healthy young man gets shot? That is some fine dining.”

“There was another upir five miles from my house and I never knew?” Roman spat. 

“Half the morticians in the country are upir,” Annie replied with a smirk. “Trust me.” She pushed the drawer back in.

“I’m getting cremated,” Destiny said as she closed the door.

“So that means that the thing that attacked me…” Roman said.

“Was hunting upirs,” Annie finished.

Roman found Annie a few minutes later in a room with stored caskets. Destiny wanted another sweep of the mortuary before they left, and Annie had wandered off. When Roman entered the room, he saw her, staring somberly at a casket. It was small, obviously meant for either a baby or a very small child. It was such a sad object, but it seemed to affect Annie in an even more painful way than it did for him. 

“Annie?” he said.

She didn’t answer him at first. Finally she spoke, her voice soft and shaking. “I’m a mother and a wife,” she said, “or I was before…”

“You don’t have to talk about it,” Roman interjected.

“No, I want to,” she said. “I need to hear it out loud sometimes.” Roman nodded. “We were heading off to Thanksgiving,” she continued, “my husband, my daughter, and me. She was seven. Special occasions like that were the only time she’d let me do her hair. She looked so pretty. The truck hit, flipped the car right over, and I could see her braids in the rear-view twist around and around. I should have died with them. In any rational world, I would have. When everyone you know, everyone you love, dies before you, how do you carry on?”

Roman didn’t know what to do or say. He reached out and placed comforting hand on her shoulder. She turned to him. 

“You have a daughter,” she said. “Don’t you worry about what will happen to her or to your fiancé? That they will age and die, and you will not? Isn’t that a lonely thought?”

She stepped closer to him, and laid both hands on his chest. 

Lucy walked into the room, and saw the two of them, standing so close, looking so intimate, and her breath caught. She cleared her throat to get their attention. Annie turned to her, and Roman jumped away from Annie as if she were on fire. Lucy tried to sew a smile onto her face with minimal success. Roman looked apologetic. Annie looked… smug? Or was that Lucy’s imagination? 

“Um, Destiny sent me for you,” Lucy said. “She thinks she’s picking something up in the lab.” She turned and walked out, telling herself that what she saw was nothing to worry about, and not quite believing it.

They followed her into the lab, where they found Destiny touching a bloody lab coat, her eyes wide. “Roman,” she whispered, “it’s still here. We need to leave.” They immediately turned and headed down the hallway toward the exit. 

Suddenly, a figure in shadow exploded from an open doorway and snatched Annie, tossing her into a separate lab room. 

“Annie!” Roman shouted. 

The creature threw her to the floor, pouncing on her, trying to tear at her chest. Roman seized it by the back of the coat, but was thrown backward into the wall, slamming him into Lucy. Destiny tried to pull its claws away, and shoved away as well. Roman tried again, but the creature turned on him, snagging him by the coat and pushing him backward, knocking his head hard against the wall. “Roman!” Lucy screamed. It flung him to the floor, turned him onto his back, and began clawing at his chest as it had done before. 

“Here!” Destiny shouted. 

Lucy turned and saw Destiny was holding the skewer end of an embalming pump. She tossed it to Lucy, who caught the skewer and stabbed it downward with both hands into the creature’s back. Destiny jammed the suction button on the machine, and blood, fluid, and fleshy bits began flowing up the tubing toward the machine. A few moments later, the creature collapsed over Roman.

Lucy put a foot in its side and kicked it off of Roman. He was unconscious on the floor, his eyes rolled back in his head. 

“He needs help,” Annie said.

“I know a place,” Lucy said, touching his cheek softly.


	3. Scary Monsters, Super Creeps

Lucy sat next to Roman’s bed in the White Tower, occasionally touching his hand or his face, keeping an eye on his monitors as he slept. It was a concussion, Dr. Pryce had said, just as she suspected, but there were no signs of skull fracture, thank God. Pryce had insisted that they put Roman in a proper hospital gown for his stay, and Lucy had helped him undress Roman so that they wouldn’t have to cut off his clothes. She insisted on administering his IV as well. She didn’t want any other nurse near him, especially Annie. 

Lucy knew she shouldn’t be jealous. She’d never been jealous before, and Roman was a chick-magnet after all. Women were drawn to him. He was like a pussy pied piper. She looked down at the ring on her hand and tried to remember that she held his heart, just as he held hers.

But…

Annie was beautiful. No, she was beyond beautiful. She had a face men probably wrote poetry about. And she was svelte, not curvy like Lucy. She was more like the women Roman was used to. Lucy felt shabby and plain around her.

And she wanted Roman. It didn’t take a genius to see that. Lucy couldn’t fault her for that. After all, she’d fallen for Roman; she knew how attractive he was, how charming he could be.

And she was upir. That may be the biggest issue of all. Roman wanted so badly to understand more about what he was, and what his place in the world should be. Lucy could coach him through living forever, but she knew nothing about hunting, feeding, living in a society of other upirs. Annie could help him with that. Roman needed that help, and thus needed her. And where did that leave Lucy?

Roman stirred, sighed, and opened his eyes. He turned to Lucy and she smiled warmly, leaning over him. “Hey,” she whispered.

“Hey,” he replied. He looked around, confused for a moment. “We’re at the White Tower? How long have we been here?”

“Yeah,” she said. “You’ve been out for a couple of hours. You got a concussion during the fight. How do you feel? Bad pain anywhere?”

“Just a little headache, that’s all,” he said. “Are _you_ okay?”

Lucy brushed his cheek. “I’m fine, Mr. Chivalry,” she said. 

“How did we get here?” he asked.

“The three of us carried you to the car,” she said. “Pryce sent Destiny back to the house in a White Tower car to let Peter know what happened. Annie’s downstairs.”

Roman must have seen Lucy’s involuntary frown at her name. “Lucy,” he said. “What you saw with Annie and me at the mortuary… It wasn’t anything…”

“It’s okay,” she stopped him. “I don’t want to be the paranoid jealous fiancé. How cliché. If you say it wasn’t anything, I believe you.” She leaned close to him and looked in his eyes. “You still love me?”

“You know I do,” he said.

“That’s all I need then,” she said, and brushed her lips softly over his.

“I should get up,” he said, sitting up. 

“Easy,” Lucy said, keeping a hand on him.

He rubbed his head lightly as he threw off the blankets. He stopped as he looked down at himself, and then looked up at Lucy with chagrin. “Please tell me Pryce didn’t see me naked.”

“Only a little,” Lucy smirked. “Trust me, it was the highlight of his month.”

Roman stood up from the bed. His hospital gown only extended to mid-thigh, and the back hung open. “This is not a good look for me,” he deadpanned.

“Who says?” Lucy replied, with a grin. “You’ve got killer legs and a bare ass that won’t quit. I’ve got all _sorts_ of naughty nurse ideas for later.”

“As nice as that sounds…” he trailed off with a smirk. “We’ll have to table it. Where are my clothes?”

“Over here,” Lucy said. She had them folded and stacked on the chair beside her. 

Roman reached down, ready to yank out his IV. “Hey! Hey! Don’t do that! You’ll bleed everywhere,” Lucy said. “Hold on.” She pulled some clean cotton and tape from the cabinet above the sink and carefully removed his IV. “There,” she said, kissing his wrist above the bandage on his hand. “All better.”

Roman smiled at her gesture. “What was your idea about naughty nurses, again?” he quipped.

“Later,” she replied. “Let’s find Pryce. There’s something you need to see.”

Lucy and a fully-dressed Roman took the elevator down to Sublevel 5, where they found Pryce and Annie staring at the display screen of a large microscope. Annie turned as they came down the metal staircase. “You shouldn’t be walking around,” she said.

“He’s okay,” Lucy replied. _Back off_ , she thought, but kept her mouth in check.

“Thank God it was only a bump on the head,” Annie said.

“A slight bump on the head is exactly the wrong way to think about a concussion,” Pryce said, shining a pen light in Roman’s eyes. “Avoid any physical exertion for the next twenty-four hours.”

“Guess that means no naughty nurse tonight,” he murmured to Lucy. Her eyes widened, and she blushed at Pryce and Annie. He smirked at her embarrassment, and looked back at Pryce. “Why are we down here?”

“Because Annie, before becoming a registered nurse, clearly was a Girl Scout,” Pryce said. “I believe Eclaireurs Unionistes de France is the French equivalent. She was worried you were bitten during the attack, and she knew the rule that all Girl Scouts know, French or otherwise, bring the doctor the thing that bit you.” 

Pryce pulled back the white sheet that covered a large lump on the exam table with a dramatic flourish. There on the stark white table, lay an emaciated corpse, its eyes bulging, wisps of hair dangling from its mostly-bald head. Its neck and torso were riddled with knobby, misshapen tumors, but it was its mouth that drew Roman’s attention. This was the drooling maw he’d seen before. 

Pryce looked smug, excited even. “Autopsy time,” he crooned.

Pryce made them all dress in protective gowns and scrub in before dawning gloves. Lucy helped Roman through the process. The doctor gave Annie documentation duty with a tablet and stylus before beginning the autopsy.

“Subject is a female, Caucasian, 5’8” and weighing one hundred-twenty-one pounds,” he began. “Subject is cachectic with large patches of reticulated hyperpigmentation on her chest, abdomen, and left anterior thigh, consistent with melanoma.”

“It’s skinny and misshapen with that blue stuff on its skin,” Annie translated.

“Yeah, I got the gist,” Roman replied.

Pryce examined the talon-like hands. “Fingers are ossified, flexed into an immobile, claw-like configuration with thickened, hypertrophic nails.” His voiced dropped to a creepy whisper. “All the better to rip your heart out with, my dear.”

Lucy rolled her eyes at him. Pryce was an absolute genius, but also an utter drama queen.

The doctor examined the creature’s face, manipulating its lower jaw. He pressed down, and the jaw extended far beyond normal human angles. “Abnormal jaw flexibility,” he commented. 

He turned and retrieved a heavy pair of surgical pliers from the table of tools. He gripped one of the thing’s upper canine teeth and yanked it free. Thick yellow mucus leaked from the hole in its gums. Pryce seemed confused, almost annoyed. “An accessory sinus in the maxilla apparently filled with venom,” he said, tossing the tooth into a specimen pan. “Sound familiar?”

“You think this is one of us?” Roman scoffed.

“We need to look deeper,” Pryce said. “Lucy, 10-blade, if you please.” She handed him the scalpel and assisted Pryce with the retractors as he completed the Y incision. “Bonesaw,” he instructed, and they cut through the bones on both sides of the ribcage. Lucy helped him lift off the entire top of the ribs and sternum to examine the organs beneath. She gasped at the sight.

“Well, that’s…” Roman trailed off

“Interesting,” Pryce finished. 

“Sure,” Roman said.

The upir’s organs were twisted and pushed aside by a massive, discolored tumor, striped with veins that filled the entire internal cavity. “Gray-mottled, highly vascular mass with extensions to the upper right quadrant of the abdomen and the base of the neck,” Pryce dictated.

“I’ve never seen a tumor this big,” Lucy said, amazed.

“That’s what makes it interesting.” Pryce was having trouble containing the excitement in his voice. “10-blade again, please,” he asked, extending his hand.

Lucy gave him the scalpel, and Pryce tried dissecting the tumor. It moved. It actually recoiled from the blade. 

“Jesus Christ!” Roman exclaimed, stepping back from the table. 

“Very interesting,” Pryce commented.

“Is that alive?!” Roman choked.

“The corpse isn’t, by definition,” Pryce replied. “As for the tumor, highly differentiated structures reminiscent of a string of ganglia, suggesting higher nervous system function.”

Roman was incredulous. “That thing’s got a brain?”

Pryce slid his hand between the tumor and the other organs, Lucy assisted him in lifting it to examine the tissues beneath. “And an appetite, apparently,” Pryce said. “The tumor’s created a fistula from the esophagus to a large pocket near the now unused original stomach.”

“A tumor that thinks and eats?” Lucy said.

Pryce eyes changed. They widened with something like memory or realization. “LPS,” he whispered. 

“What?” Lucy asked.

“Lower peritoneal squamous lymphoma,” he replied. “LPS. It reminds me of… of a tumor structure I dissected in medical school.” He pulled their hands from the upir’s organs. “Let’s have a look at Miss LPS’s brain,” he said.

They used the scalpel and bonesaw once again to remove the upir’s scalp and the top of its skull. Pryce gingerly lifted its brain from the skull cavity. Blue-black tendrils of tumor were visible over the gray matter. “The tumor invests in multiple brain regions,” Pryce dictated, “especially the frontal lobe.”

“Reasoning, self-control,” Annie explained.

“The optic nerve,” Pryce said.

“Vision,” she repeated.

“And the lateral hypothalamus,” he finished.

“Hunger.”

“Hypothesis,” Pryce said. “The LPS appears to be some previously unknown fusion of cancer and a parasitical organism. By employing the rapidly replicating cellular structure of tumors to manipulate the nervous and digestive systems, it can be speculated that the organism is modifying the behavior of the host to allow or even compel the consumption of the host’s own species. Which means you, of course.” At his last words, he looked at Roman and Annie.

Peter, Destiny, and Nadia met them at the door of the house when they finally came home. Nadia squealed “Daddy!” as she ran into Roman’s arms. He lifted her and hugged her tightly, pressing a kiss to her hair.

“Hey,” Peter said. “Destiny told me all about what happened. Are you okay?”

“I’ve been better,” Roman replied over Nadia’s shoulder. “Here, go see Mama,” he whispered to her as he passed her to Lucy. 

“Do you mind if I use your bathroom before I head back to my hotel?” Annie asked.

“Sure,” Roman replied. She headed up the stairs. 

“I’m going to see about dinner. I’m starved. You want to catch them up while I get us some Chinese?” she asked Roman. “You want noodles, pumpkin?” she said, kissing Nadia’s ear and making her giggle.

“Yeah. Let’s go sit down,” he said to the Rumanceks.

“You guys want to stay for dinner?” Lucy asked.

“Nah, we should let you rest,” Peter replied. “But I’ve got to hear this first.”

Annie walked down the stairs just as Peter and Destiny left. Roman saw her out of his periphery as he lifted the bottle of Tears above his face. He let one drop fall into his right eye, and blinked against the burn. A wave of euphoria swept over him, and any semblance of lingering hunger was gone. He turned to Annie as she stepped into the kitchen.

“Heading out?” he said. 

“Yes,” Annie replied. “Can I ask…” She nodded to the box of bottles. “Is that your system?”

“Yeah,” he said. 

“What is it?” she asked.

“It’s called Tears of Tefnut,” he replied. “I guess you’d call it upir vitamins? It takes away the hunger.”

“But what is it?” she asked.

Roman looked at Lucy where she played on the living room floor with Nadia, a what-do-I-tell-her look in his eyes. “It’s okay,” Lucy said. “Keep playing, pumpkin. I’ll be right back.” 

Lucy walked into the kitchen with them. “It’s processed from rusalka blood,” she said.

“Rusalka?” Annie said, the shock in her voice was oddly satisfying to Lucy. “How? Where?”

“Me,” Lucy replied with a shrug.

“You’re rusalka?!” Annie said, incredulous. “I didn’t think they were real. I thought it was some Slovak peasant story. I mean… I don’t mean… No offense.”

“It’s alright,” Lucy chuckled. “I imagine people say the same thing about upirs. Kind of makes you wonder what else is out there.”

“I didn’t know anything about any of this until a couple of years ago,” Roman said. “I still feel like this might be a dream. I’m learning about the world as I go.”

“I think we all are, babe” Lucy said.

“Well, I have this upir friend, Nate. He’s having a sort of upir dinner party tomorrow evening. I could take you to see him, if you want,” Annie offered. “You could meet others, ask questions, whatever.”

Roman looked at Lucy. “Yeah, sure. We’d love to come,” he said.

Annie’s brow furrowed. “It’s sort of upirs only,” she said. She shrugged one shoulder at Lucy.

“It’s fine,” Lucy said, pushing down her jealousy and her feeling that this was some sort of bizarre supernatural racism-thing. She turned to Roman. “If it gets you some answers, you should go.”

He nodded. “Okay.”

Saturday evening Roman picked up Annie from her hotel in his SUV. It felt strange, too much like a date. He’d kissed Lucy and Nadia goodbye, and then left to go to dinner with another woman. He tried his best not to be awkward during the drive, but wasn’t having much luck. The silence was uncomfortable. 

“So how old is Nadia?” Annie asked.

“She’ll be two in a few months,” he said.

“She’s not even two yet?!” Annie exclaimed. “She speaks so well. I can’t believe it.”

Roman smiled. “Yeah, we’re proud of her.”

“Lucy’s not her mother, is she?” she asked after a moment.

Roman looked surprised. “No, she’s not. How did you know that?”

“Just a feeling,” she said. “So where is her mother?”

“She died,” Roman said.

“Sorry,” Annie said. “It’s nice that you have Lucy. You kept saying you had a system. I never imagined that the system was _her_.”

Roman didn’t know how to respond. She wasn’t wrong, but her words felt somehow back-handed.

When arrived at the house at sunset, Roman almost laughed. It didn’t look all that different from his own house’s exterior. Apparently upirs had similar taste in architecture. They walked through the snow to the front door. 

“So, if Nate comes off a little full of himself at first, just remember, he’s really a genius, okay?” Anne said. “He’s kind of famous in our community. You’ll warm up to him. He’s super charismatic.”

Roman raised his eyebrows at her. “You slept with him,” he laughed.

Annie smirked. “Time Square. V-J Day. The whole city was in love.”

“How old are you really?” he asked.

Annie rolled her eyes and opened the door. 

They stepped into the house, and a voice called out, “Ah, Annie, ma belle!” A good-looking man who looked in his late thirties embraced Annie, lifted her, and spun her around. He set her on her feet and kissed her cheek. He turned to Roman with a grin, putting out his hand.

“Hi, I’m Roman,” he said, shaking it.

“Nate,” the man replied. “Well, come in, come in.” He ushered them into an extremely posh living room. He pointed back toward a dining room. “That attractive young lady setting the table is Megan Whitney.”

A young-looking woman in purple waved to them. “Hi!”

Nate continued. “And you know Julie and Mickey Hughes.”

Annie ran to them. “Hey!” she said, embracing Julie. “Nice to see you!”

“Oh, and everybody, this is Roman,” Nate said.

“So, you’re the baby upir,” Mickey said, shaking Roman’s hand.

“Nate told us about you, so we wanted to welcome you to the fold,” Julie said.

“So… Do you all live nearby?” Roman asked.

“He doesn’t know about East Cornwall?” Nate asked Annie.

“I told you, he’s new,” she replied.

“Our little town is about thirty-five percent upir, by own census,” Mickey said. 

“You mean you’ve lived here all along?” Roman was shocked.

“Well, not all the time,” Mickey explained. “See, the rest of the town would get a bit suspicious if a third of its residents never aged. We usually move every twenty years or so to another community, and then come back again, usually once a century, for another couple of decades.”

“Are there other places like this?” Roman asked.

“Oh sure,” Mickey said. “Let’s see, there’s Barrow, Alaska; that’s lovely for a wilderness get-away. Shreveport, Louisiana. Ogunquit, Maine. There are a couple of lovely little colonies in West Virginia and New Mexico. And of course, Las Vegas and L.A.; they’re just teaming with upirs. And that’s just the States. There are even more in Europe, South America… oh we LOVE New Zealand. Don’t we honey?”

“Just gorgeous,” Julie exclaimed.

“Where’s Hannah?” Annie asked Nate.

“Later,” he replied, eyeing Megan in the purple dress.

“Oh, let me guess, new student?” Annie asked. 

“No, of course not,” Nate replied. “My physical therapist. She’s getting her degree in kinesiology.” He turned away from Annie’s rolling eyes. “Everyone have a seat, I’ve got a real treat for us.”

Roman sat on a sofa. Annie sat next to him with Megan, and Hugheses across from them. “Roman, if you don’t mind my asking,” Julie started, “what have you been doing in the way of sustenance since you turned?”

“Whatever I could find,” Roman said. He felt an inexplicable need to keep both the Tears and Pryce’s nutrient under wraps.

“Ah. You’ve been hunting,” Mickey said.

“No. Not really,” Roman said.

“It’s okay if you have,” Julie offered, with sympathy in her voice. 

“I can’t imagine what it would be like without learning nonviolent feeding from a responsible adult,” Mickey said. “There’s a support group…”

“No, honestly,” Roman interrupted. “I’m not hunting.”

“The kid’s fine. Leave him alone,” Nate said. He had some kind of steel box in his hand. 

Roman found himself thinking of the box of surprises he’d brought to the bedroom with Lucy, and bit his lips to hide a smile. Surely that wasn’t the kind of box Nate brought here. This was definitely not the crowd for that.

“Now, I have a very special amuse-bouche prepared,” Nate said. 

“What is that?” Megan asked. “Is that AB negative?”

“That’s for pishers,” Nate scoffed. He opened the box to reveal an ancient looking syringe on a pillow of red velvet. “This, my dear friends,” he said, holding up the syringe, “is the Holy Fucking Grail.”

“Oh my God,” Megan breathed.

“You want some?” Nate asked. 

Megan opened her mouth like supplicant taking communion, and Nate dropped in a taste from the syringe. She moaned orgasmically. “Jesus Christ! Rh null!” 

Annie and the Hugheses moaned together ecstatically. _Maybe this_ is _the crowd for that_ , Roman thought. Annie opened her mouth for a taste. Megan opined. “Oh, my parents told me about it, but…”

“This is why I became a phlebotomist,” Mickey crooned. “Come, come, come.” He called Nate over for a taste, as did Julie.

Nate brought the syringe to Roman. _I once snorted coke off of a hooker’s stomach_ while _she sucked my cock upside down_ , he thought. _When in Rome, I guess._ He opened his mouth. Nate squirted in a mouthful of blood. It was warm, rich, coppery. It was delicious. But it was blood, much like other blood he’d taken before. He listened to Nate go on about the metallic notes, and responded with a yeah-sure, but in the end, Nate reminded him of a snotty sommelier when Roman just wanted a shot of brandy for warmth. 

“What is Rh null?” he asked.

“It’s only the rarest blood type. Only 40 donors in the world have it.” Nate chuckled at him, and the others joined. Roman knew he was being mocked, and it distinctly reminded him of Olivia, and his heckles were instantly up. These people may be upir, but they were also candy-ass snobs.

“Come one, I want to show you something,” Annie said. Roman immediately followed her to the kitchen. Anything to get away from these assholes.

On the stove was a large lidded stock pot. Annie removed the lid, and Roman saw a thick red soup simmering. “Smells good,” he said.

“Blood pudding,” Annie replied. 

“What’s in it?”

“Immunoglobulin, amino acids, plasma. We all bring a different ingredient. Everyone shares it. It brings everyone together,” she said. “Here you go.” She filled a spoon and held it to Roman’s lips.

He tasted it. Now _this_ was good. It was blood, sure, but it had an umami taste like steak with a salty edge and some tang to it. “That’s good,” he said, impressed. “Fantastic, in fact.”

“And our kind are the only ones who make it,” Annie said, moving closer. “It’s like so many things. In the end, we’re the only ones who understand each other. We have to stick together, and depend on each other. Without other upirs, we’re lost.” She was intimately close to him now, close enough that he could feel her radiating warmth. She was looking up into his eyes with one corner of her mouth turned up, and then her eyes fell to his lips. This felt like a trap.

He thought of Olivia, and wanted to tell Annie that you could be lost _with_ an upir, too.

Suddenly, a scream pierced the night. Nate and Mickey walked into the kitchen in time to see a body fly through the kitchen windows and thud onto the floor amid the broken glass. “Megan!” Nate cried as he looked at her bloodied corpse. Her throat and chest had been torn open, viscera stringing from the wounds. 

The room went dark. The power to the house was cut. “We’ve got to get out of here!” Annie said.

A creature, male in a hooded sweatshirt, exploded in through the broken windows. Mickey grabbed a cast iron frying pan nearby and brought it down with a wham, caving in the creature’s forehead, while Roman snatched a nearby butcher’s knife. 

Another one, bald, with blue-black veins running over its face, ran in from the front door. Roman wheeled on it, and buried the blade in its chest, stabbing over and over until in collapsed to the floor. A female creature tore in after it. Annie smashed a wine bottle over its face, and used the broken bottle neck to slash and stab its throat, repeatedly. 

“Where do we go?!” Roman screamed to Nate.

“This way!” he shouted. “Follow me!” Roman, Annie, and Mickey ran from the kitchen after him.

Mickey stopped in the hallway. “Wait! My wife!” he cried.

“There’s no fucking time, man. She’s gone!” Nate shouted.

“I have to! I have to!” Mickey screamed, and was gone before Nate could grab him.

Roman and Annie ran, following Nate out of the house, over the grounds to a large barn. “Come on! This way! Hurry up!” he shouted. 

Once they were inside, he bolted the heavy doors. “Those were… Those were Hannah’s cousins,” Nate panted.

“They’re running in packs now?!” Roman exclaimed.

“It’s spreading somehow,” Anna replied.

“Wait, you’ve seen this before?” Nate said.

“Just one,” Annie said. “It’s some kind of disease upirs are getting. We’ve got to barricade…” One of the creatures crashed through a window in the barn, seized Annie under the arms, and tried to drag her out through the broken pane. 

Roman ran to her, wrenching her free of the thing’s grasp. It climbed through the opening after them. Annie snatched a nearby shovel and beat it repeatedly over the head until it fell back through the window.

The thing that once been Nate’s wife, Hannah, smashed through another window. Roman, with a piece of broken wood in hand, landed swings at her head baseball-style until she retreated into the yard. 

The Hannah-thing paused, collected itself from the blows, and began to speak, calling out to the barn. “Annie, open the door. We’ll feed on the others, and we’ll let you go.”

“Oh, you’re going to let her go? Total fucking lie, Hannah!” Nate shouted back.

“Says the guy who was fucking his masseuse,” the Hannah-thing spat. 

“She’s a kinesiologist, you fucking psycho!” he screamed. 

At that, the Hannah-thing began hurling her body at the door over and over, trying to break through the ancient wood. When her repeated attempts to break down the door failed, she retreated into the trees. Roman, Annie, and Nate stayed quiet in the barn for several minutes, not leaving, barely moving. Nate held his cell phone up in various places in the barn, trying to pick up a signal with no luck. Both Roman’s phone and the keys to his SUV were still in the house, in the pocket of his coat. 

Nate turned to Roman and Annie. “My neighbor has a land line,” he said. “One of you could make a run for it.”

“One of us?” Annie said, incredulous.

“I tore my ACL,” he explained.

“Thirty years ago, Nate,” she spat.

“Yeah, but it still hurts a lot.”

Roman rolled his eyes at them both. “Fuck it. I’ll do it,” he said, walking for the door.

“No, no, wait. You don’t even know where he lives,” Annie said, stopping him. 

“Okay. It’s really easy,” Nate said. “You just go down the road. You go underneath the bridge. He’s right there. You can’t miss him. Go. Get going.”

Roman turned away from him with a smirk. _Pussy,_ he thought.

Annie stopped him again. “No. What if they’re still out there?!”

“Then I’ll run,” Roman replied. He picked up a hand scythe from the wall of the barn and tested its weight. He lifted the bar from the doors, and walked out into the night. He heard them bar the door behind him. 

The cold darkness and silence enveloped him. At twenty feet from the barn, there was still no sign of the creatures. He kept going. They had to get out of this. _He_ had to get out of this. He had a family now, a real family that he loved, and that loved him. He wanted to hold his baby, wanted to see Lucy’s face. He didn’t want to die out here in the dark, on this prick’s property, without seeing them again. He made it to the road, walking fast, his breath in clouds around his head. He’d reached the bridge when he finally saw it, a middle aged woman with curly hair, her face a roadmap of blue-black veins.

“We got one!” she sing-songed. 

Two more woman-things appeared with her, running at him from the other side of the bridge, and then a male creature appeared behind him, ready to pounce. Roman slashed him with his scythe, slicing open his face, then his throat. Roman knew he’d never make it to the other house now. He turned and sprinted back toward the barn, the things on his tail. 

He reached the barn door and banged on it, furiously. “Open up!” he screamed. “They’re coming!” No one answered. No one was opening the door. He could see and hear the creatures coming closer now, their running footfalls and pants breaths louder from the road. He banged on the door again. “Annie, what the fuck?!” he shouted.

One of the things, the man-thing in the sport coat, seized the back of Roman’s sweater, spinning him. It knocked him against the barn door and tried to claw his chest. “Sorry,” it growled. “I can’t help it.”

Roman shoved it backward, and one of his flailing hands his a switch to an outside light. The bulb blazed, and the man-thing was suddenly disoriented, almost blind. It wandered away from Roman as if it couldn’t see him at all. Roman picked up his scythe, seizing this opportunity, and sliced the man-thing’s chest, bringing his scythe down like a hammer again and again. The three female creatures came closer, but stopped in the shadows away from the light, watching their friend (Family? Cousin?) being sliced to pieces, but making no attempt to save him.

At last, the barn door opened, and Roman heard Annie’s voice calling him. He ran back inside, shut and bolted the door, and rolled a barrel in front of it. He looked at Nate groaning on the floor, and wanted to use the scythe on him too. He could feel the weight of it in his hand, imagining how it would feel to bury it in Nate’s chest, but Roman threw it on the floor.

“The dark,” Roman said. “They stay in the fucking dark.” He began combing through boxes and crates in the barn, until he found a flashlight. “All the attacks are in the dark. Here and in Hemlock too. But outside, I turned on the light, and they were all fucked up. They were disoriented.”

“The tumor wrapped around the optic nerve,” Annie said.

“Maybe they’re sensitive to sunlight,” Nate offered. “We just wait them out. They’ll have to leave before sunrise.”

Just then, they heard the cracking and splintering of wood. The two female-things were breaking right through the wall of the barn, trying to crawl inside. Roman ran at them with his flashlight, flicking it on, and shining it into their faces. They immediately stopped, their eyes wide and staring. “Nate, help us!” Annie called.

Nate took one look at the frozen creatures and bolted out of the barn door. “Fucking coward,” Roman spat. 

They heard his screams from the forest a moment later.

It didn’t take long for the flashlight to begin to fade. God knew how long it had been sitting in the damp and dusty barn, or how old the batteries were to begin with. “Oh, fuck!” Roman breathed. The light faded, flickered, and finally went out. The things, snarling, drooling, began to crawl in through the opening. Annie raised her shovel, and Roman reached for his scythe. 

Suddenly, Hannah’s voice called to them. “Girls, get over here!” Her voice was like a mother telling the children that breakfast was ready, and considering Nate’s screams, that probably wasn’t far from the truth. The things turned to the sound of her voice and ran off into the darkness. Roman watched them go. The male one was dead, the females were eating Nate. Now was their chance.

“We gotta leave,” he whispered. “Come on.”

Roman opened the barn door as quietly as he could, and he and Annie sprinted for the house, and then for the SUV.


	4. Opening Doors and Pulling Some Strings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There will be a fair bit of exposition in this chapter, so bear with me. 
> 
> This chapter also contains more ADULT material, just FYI.

Roman sat in the SUV outside of the blood bank. The sun was beginning to peek over the horizon, and Nate’s house was far behind them. He was still shaking, his adrenaline barely dissipated from the encounter with the creatures. He’d asked Annie, “Why are they hunting us?”

“I don’t know,” she replied. “Maybe it’s our turn.” She’d commented on his color. “You look pale,” she said. “You need blood. We both do.”

“I have some nutrient at home,” he offered.

“I have a better idea,” Annie said with a smirk. “I’m going to rob a bank.”

Now here he was, waiting in the get-away car. Annie jimmied a window and crawled inside. She said she’d “borrowed” from this particular blood bank before, when she’d been in a pinch. 

Roman checked his phone. There were four missed calls from Lucy, and a text that read _Are you alright._ He had to tell her everything, but he couldn’t begin to think how he’d do that over the phone. He needed to get home. 

Annie crawled out of the window of the blood bank and ran to the SUV and few minutes later. She jumped into the passenger seat. “Let’s go,” she panted. Roman sped out of the parking lot.

Annie pulled a couple of blood bags from inside her coat and waggled them. “Jackpot,” she laughed. Roman reached for one, and she held it away. “Just wait,” she said. She unbuttoned her blouse, unabashed at the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra. Roman turned away from her pointed nipples like a blushing kid in junior high. Annie put the blood bags against her skin, and buttoned her blouse over them. “Give it a couple of minutes, and these will be warm and tasty,” she said with a smile.

Roman nodded, awkwardly. “We need to tell Lucy what happened,” he said, trying to change the subject to anything but the breakfast warming against her breasts. “And Pryce.”

“Sure,” she said. 

Roman pulled into the parking lot of the Hemlock Inn, which was little more than a glorified motel, exterior door and all. It was, however, a sight better than the motel by the truck stop where Davy ran his pimp game. Roman pulled up in front of her room number. Annie opened the passenger door and jumped out. “At least come in and have some breakfast before you go,” she said, walking to the door, and opening it with her keycard.

Roman sighed. _Okay, a quick bite and then I’m out of here,_ he thought. He turned off the engine, and followed her into the room. 

It wasn’t a bad hotel room. It wasn’t the Ritz, but it was clean, at least, and it seemed to have a nice king-sized bed. 

“So, breakfast,” Annie said with a smirk. She unbuttoned her blouse again, and not only pulled out the blood bags, but removed her top completely. She advanced on him like a lithe jungle cat, blood bags in one hand, her bare nipples standing at attention. 

Roman, flabbergasted, turned his back on her. “Annie, what the fuck?” he exclaimed.

“What’s wrong with a little breakfast?” she asked, her voice anything but innocent. “And what’s wrong with a little more?” She forcibly turned Roman with her free hand, seized him at the back of his neck, and pulled him down to her mouth, sucking his bottom lip between hers.

Roman pushed her away with both hands, and she bounced back onto the bed.

“Oh my God,” a voice behind them cried.

Roman whirled to see Lucy standing in the doorway. She was wearing her winter coat, the keys to her little Chevy in her hand. Roman could see it parked next to his SUV through the open door. Her eyes were filled with horror and betrayal. Roman could see anger there, but worse, he could see terrible sadness. “Lucy, no!” he cried. “I swear, it’s not what it looks like…”

But she was running away, running to her Chevy before he could see her tears fall.

“The fuck is wrong with you?” he spat back at Annie. 

He didn’t wait for her answer. Roman ran out into the parking lot. He knocked on Lucy’s door as the Chevy’s engine roared to life. “Lucy, please,” he begged. “You don’t understand. Nothing happened. I pushed her away.” Lucy wouldn’t look at him. She was crying, her face contorted. She yanked the shift into reverse, and pulled away from him. Roman kept chasing the car, banging on the window with his open hand and shouting. “I didn’t want this! Lucy listen to me! I love you! Please!”

Lucy shifted into drive and sped out of the parking lot, squealing tires, leaving Roman standing in the middle of the parking lot, screaming after her. 

It was noon when Annie knocked on the door of the small apartment. Roman had left her at the hotel without a word, without coming back to her. She was so sure he’d make love to her. She knew he was tempted. She could see that in his eyes from the first time he looked at her in the Socrates Bar. So, why hadn’t it worked? Now she was here, wondering what she was going to say.

The door opened, and Olivia, looking pale in designer red dress, greeted her. “You’re here!” she exclaimed with a grin. “Come in! Come in!” She ushered Annie into the apartment with glee. “Do you want anything? I’ve got some lovely rare prime rib in the refrigerator.”

“No, I’m fine. Thank you,” Annie said.

Olivia pulled her into a cramped living area and moved to sit on a tiny loveseat beside her. “So…” Olivia drawled, patting Annie’s hand. “What happened? Tell me everything.”

“Nothing happened,” Annie said. “There was too much in the way.”

Olivia’s face fell. “What are you talking about?”

“I went to the bar, talked to him, things seemed to be going well. And when I followed him home, he was attacked,” Annie explained.

“Attacked?” Olivia scoffed. “Attacked by whom?”

“There’s so much to explain. We discovered a disease,” Annie said. “It’s like a cancer, but it looks like it’s specific to upirs. Pryce performed an autopsy on the upir that attacked Roman. The tumor we found invades the brain and digestive system. It literally forces upirs to attack and feed on other upirs. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Olivia’s face actually looked shocked, frightened even. “A cancer?” she said. “But you killed it. And you and Roman are alright.”

“I took him to East Cornwall last night,” Annie continued. “To one of Nate Moldark’s dinner parties. The entire house was attacked but infected upirs. They killed Nate, the Hugheses. Roman and I got away, but it looks like this is spreading. Only cancer isn’t contagious, so we may be thinking about this all wrong.”

“But what happened with Roman?!” Olivia snapped. She seemed panicky, paler than usual, out of sorts. She kept blinking at Annie as if her eyes were dry or painful.

“Nothing,” Annie said. “I thought us being in peril at Nate’s might even work in my favor, but it didn’t. I tried to seduce him in my hotel room, but he pushed me away. And then _she_ actually showed up at the hotel.”

“She?” Olivia asked.

“She,” Annie replied. “Lucy. You neglected to tell me he had a fiancé.”

“Fiancé?” Olivia laughed. “He’s planning to _marry_ it?! That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard! Don’t worry about that. She’s nothing. She’s a farm animal. A sheep to be fleeced.”

“She doesn’t seem like nothing,” Annie said. “He loves her.”

“He loves convenient snatch,” Olivia spat. “You’ll just have to try harder. I’m not losing my legacy, my _family_ , because of fucking rusalka. Our line _will_ continue.”

“You know I want that too, Mother,” Annie said with unabashed sincerity. She held Olivia’s hand in hers, running her thumb over her mother’s knuckles. Olivia seemed to visibly calm. “I want a family again, one that can never die.”

Olivia nodded.

Annie sighed and looked around the apartment. “Where is Shelley?” she asked. “You said I could meet her.”

Olivia’s teeth clenched. “She’s run away,” she seethed. “I can’t find her anywhere. I even hired a private investigator, but he’s come up with nothing, so far. That’s what makes your task even more imperative. My family is falling apart.”

“ _That_ is what’s growing inside me?!” Olivia exclaimed. She stared at the gigantic tumor that Pryce had kept suspended in preservative. 

“Yours will be a little smaller, of course,” he replied, as if that made any difference to her pounding heart. “I have your scans right here.”

In the next tank, Olivia found a bald, emaciated corpse, riddled with growths. Its arms ended in what looked like bird claws. “And this is…”

“Oh, that’s the host body it was withdrawn from,” he explained. 

“Well, that’s not going to happen to me,” she said. “You’re going to fix it. I mean, you can just cut it out of me. Right?”

“Unfortunately, the organism so entwines the brain and spinal cord that extracting it would almost always kill the patient.” He almost sounded gleeful, the prick.

“Well, then, chemo? Radiation?” she tried.

“Anything’s worth a try, I suppose,” he offered.

“Worst case, you’ll just whip up another creature like the one in the tank, and I’ll just, you know, feed on it, like I did with you-know-who.”

Pryce’s face fell into a numb stare. Olivia fell a wave of satisfaction at his pain.

“Growing another creature would take eighteen months, minimum.” His voice was robotic. “You haven’t got that long.”

“What are you saying, Johann?” she asked.

“You’ve seen the footage, the information I found,” he said. “The bishop’s superiors created this disease with help from the Nazis and their experimentation. The rats you saw in the film were test subjects, prototypes engineered to manage their disease by feeding on their own species.”

“Well, does that work?” Olivia asked, hopefully. “Does it fix it if I just feed on other, healthy…”

“Regrettably no,” Pryce interrupted. His voice sounded as if he felt anything but regret. “From my experience, from my observations, it just delays the inevitable. It’s pretty much a lose-lose situation.”

“And you know this how?” she spat.

“Because those pesky Nazis were just so good at keeping records,” Pryce replied. “I found all the correspondence between the Nazi scientists and a group calling themselves the Order of the Dragon.” Olivia stiffened at that. “All the plans were kept on micro-dot technology. It’s a quaint encryption trick of the mid twentieth century. They just made everything really tiny, and hoped nobody would find it. It’s all there in its original German. It has repeated references to ‘making the world upir-free.’ And it states that the pathogen doesn’t affect human beings exposed to it. It is abundantly clear that this particular sect of the Church developed the LPS pathogen as a weapon to exterminate all upir. It only makes sense that they tapped the Nazis for help. They were certainly very big on extermination.”

Olivia took a deep, shaking breath. “Does Roman have it?”

“No, not to my knowledge,” Pryce replied.

“Of course he doesn’t,” she muttered.

“That’s what is certainly interesting,” he commented. “On first look at its pathogenesis, this looks like a cancer. However, upon further study, I’ve discovered that this is actually a blood-borne pathogen. It’s transmittable through bodily fluids, which are, excuse the expression, the life blood of upirs. However, it does not affect humans, an upir’s primary food and fluid source. Therefore, it could only be contracted via fluid transfer between upirs. This is a deadly, upir-targeted, sexually transmitted disease. And unless I’m mistaken, until recently, you were the only upir that Roman knew, correct?”

Olivia said nothing.

“So, he wouldn’t have contracted it, would he?” Pryce said, smugly. “You, however, know many upirs, don’t you? Both in the Biblical sense and otherwise?”

“Fuck you,” she breathed.

Pryce ignored her and continued. “The question is why now. It looks like this Order of the Dragon had this biological weapon in their possession since World War II. Why are we only seeing this now? What triggered the release of this weapon?”

Olivia said nothing, but the faces of the Chasseur siblings stared back at her in her mind.

Roman tried calling Lucy again as he stood in his office in the White Tower. She wasn’t answering his calls, his texts. She and Nadia stayed with Destiny last night after the disaster at the Hemlock Inn. Roman didn’t know what to do. He knew how it looked. He didn’t know what to say to make Lucy understand. Even if he told her everything, he didn’t know how she’d believe him. He wouldn’t have believed himself. Her voicemail picked up again.

“Hey, it’s me,” Roman said. “Lucy, you have to give me a chance. You have to listen to me, please. I swear, nothing happened with Annie. We were attacked at the dinner by those things. We were trapped until dawn and I couldn’t call you. I know that sounds like a lie, but it’s the truth. And when I dropped her off at the hotel, she tried to seduce me. I pushed her away right when you saw us. I know that sounds crazy. I know. You have to believe me. I love you. I miss you. Please just call me. Please talk to me. I need to see you.”

“Doesn’t sound like you want be an upir living in East Cornwall,” Pryce commented.

“Those things just kept coming,” Roman said.

“This is far worse than I imagined,” Pryce said. “Things seem to have escalated precipitously. Roman, I’m going to share with you all I’ve discovered in my research of this pathogen, but I think there’s one thing you need to know that is more pressing. Your mother has the LPS disease.” Roman’s brow furrowed. “She’s getting sicker every day. She will deteriorate and become hideous. A monster, really… or more of one. Judging from the neural plaque we observed during that autopsy, her mind will be the first to go, and the pain…” He trailed off for a moment. “Let’s just say death will be a relief for her.”

“How long?” Roman asked.

“A month,” Pryce replied. “Maybe less. This disease is terra nova for everyone.”

“That’s one less problem,” Roman said, painting a smirk on his face that didn’t feel real. 

“Eventually,” Pryce agreed, “but if you prefer your organs on the inside of your body, I would suggest that you steer clear as the disease moves into its final stages. I would even keep Nadia from her, although I know she’s only half-upir. It won’t be long before Olivia is hunting your kind.” Roman said nothing. Pryce sighed. “I’m glad you made it back from East Cornwall. You were lucky.”

A shadow passed over Roman’s face. “I make my own luck,” he replied. _Good and bad_ , he thought.

Lucy stood outside the door of the house in the cold for a few minutes. She knew she should just open the door, but she wanted to get her emotions in check first. She was still so upset. She’d come to talk to him, to give him a chance to explain, but the last thing she wanted to do was to burst into tears before he or she could get a word out. She’d already done that last night, when Nadia asked why they were having a sleep over with Aunt Dezzy. Lucy took a deep breath, pulled out her key. You didn’t even get a chance to press the fob to the electronic lock. Roman opened the door.

“Lucy,” he breathed at the sight of her. The relief on his face actually pained her.

“Can I come in?” she asked.

Her question seemed to hurt him in return. He stepped aside to let her in. “You don’t have to ask,” he said. “This is your house too.”

She stepped past him, and shucked her coat, hat and gloves. She left her boots and cardigan on, unsure how long she was staying. She wasn’t sure what to say, how to start.

“Is Nadia still with Destiny?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Lucy replied. “I wanted to talk to you alone. Not on the phone.”

“Okay,” he said. “Okay good.”

“It was on the news,” she began.

“What?” Roman asked.

“The deaths. In East Cornwall,” she said. “I heard the name Nate Moldark. I knew you were going to see a ‘Nate,” but I didn’t know his last name. The news said seven bodies were found at his house; four of them had their chests torn open. And you said you were attacked.”

“Yes!” Roman said, again, his relief was palpable. “There were six of those things! Just like the one from the mortuary. They attacked the house. They killed Nate’s girlfriend, and another couple. Nate, Annie, and I hid out in his barn, but my car keys and my phone were in the house. I couldn’t get to them. Then Nate tried to run, and they killed him. And Annie and I made a run for it while they were… were eating him.”

Lucy looked horrified. “Why didn’t you call me when you got away?” she asked.

“I didn’t know how to explain. I’d been gone all night. I knew you’d be worried, or worse…” he said.

“Damn straight, I was worried,” she replied. “You’ve already been attacked by creatures, twice. You don’t come home. You don’t answer your phone. I was desperate to find you. I took Nadia to Destiny before the sun was even up, and I went looking for you. Then I see your car at the hotel…” Lucy trailed off, angry tears filling her eyes. “You didn’t even bother to close the door all the way.”

“I didn’t close the door, because I didn’t want to stay!” he cried. “Annie had some blood. I was basically stopping for breakfast. Next thing I know, she takes her top off and tries to kiss me. I pushed her away. I tried to tell you that.”

“Do you expect me to believe that?!” she cried, tears slipping down her cheeks.

“I need you to,” he begged, “because it’s the truth.”

“Some like her tries to seduce you, and you pushed her away?!” she repeated.

“Yes!”

“Bullshit,” Lucy spat. “She’s a fucking perfect woman. It’s like she’s fucking made for you in a lab. She’s everything you could ever want. Why wouldn’t you fuck her?!” Her teeth were gritted in anger, now. Every bit of stabbing jealousy she’d pushed down came boiling up to the surface. She invaded Roman’s space. He had some serious height on her, but looked ready to fight him. 

Roman towered over her. His heckles were up now. “I didn’t fuck her because I love you,” he growled. He actually fucking growled at _her_ , the fucking prick. 

“Why?!” she seethed. “Why would you love me when you could have sweet fucking ninja supermodel Annie? She could be your goddamn blood-sucking soulmate! You could be the upir Ozzy and fucking Harriet. Your mother would be so proud.” It was a low blow, she knew, but she wanted him to hurt as badly as she was hurting.

“Get it through your head,” he hissed through his teeth. “I love _you_ , you stupid cunt!”

Lucy slapped him, then, hard. Roman’s head rocked sideways. The rage that had threatened to tear her apart was gone in an instant, replaced with icy horror. Lucy’s hands covered her mouth. She saw a small spot of blood on his lip, where it had mashed against his teeth. “Oh God,” she whispered, reaching to touch his face. “Oh God, I’m so sorry, Roman. I didn’t mean it.”

He turned back to her, slapping her hand away from him. He tongued the hurt spot on his lip, tasting his blood. Another hot tear slipped down Lucy’s face. 

And then he seized Lucy’s face with both hands, and crashed his mouth into hers. It was an attacking, bruising kiss, and Lucy could taste his blood. She pushed him away. “What are you doing?!” she cried.

“Showing you,” the growled, and then kissed her mouth again, hard, crushing her to him, stealing her breath. He backed her up into the dining room table, ramming her ass back against it hard enough to bruise. He hooked his hands behind her thighs and lifted her onto the table, leaning his weight over her, settling between her legs. Lucy kissed him back harder. It was like a battle, all their frustrations, all their fears, all their passion grappling together in their kiss. 

Roman pulled her cardigan from her shoulders, it stopped at her elbows. He leaned off of her a moment to yank his shirt over his head, while Lucy pulled the sweater off the rest of the way. She was frantic. She leaned up and pressed her open mouth to the hollow of his throat, sucking and biting down as she unbuckled his pants. Roman groaned at the feeling. He pushed her back, the button and fly of his pants hanging open, his angry erection already visible through his boxer briefs. He tried the top button of her tunic blouse, but was instantly frustrated. He grabbed both sides of the collar and tore her blouse open, buttons flying through the air and raining over the floor. She was wearing a bra with a back closure, and Roman couldn’t wait. He hooked his fingers beneath the shoulders of her blouse, and straps of her bra and yanked them down her arms to her elbows. He jerked the cups of her bra down, spilling her breasts into his hands, his mouth. He sucked a nipple hard, worrying it with his teeth, and Lucy whimpered. 

He kissed her again, pressing himself against her, and Lucy reveled in that wonderful heat of skin on skin. He licked into her mouth, his bloody lip making everything taste like metal. He lifted off of her, and peeled the leggings and panties from her together. She wore knee-high boots, and the bottoms had to stop at her knees. Roman didn’t even bother to try to take them off. He shoved down his pants and briefs, freeing his rock-hard cock. He lifted her legs over one of his arms, leaning over her, effectively folding her in half. Her knees, still tangled in her leggings and panties nearly touched her chest. His other hand found her cunt, petted her, slipped his fingers into her folds, finding her already wet. They both panted at the contact. Roman lined himself with her and pushed forward, filling and stretching her in one slow, delicious thrust. They moaned in unison.

“This,” Roman moaned. “This is the only place I ever want to be.” He pulled back and thrust forward again, hard, pushing a moaning yelp from her. “Only. Ever. You.” Every word was a bruising, punishing thrust. Lucy cried out on every stroke. It hurt. At this angle, unable to open her legs, he felt so much larger; she felt so much tighter. And she loved every single ache.

“More,” she keened, the deep charge in her voice sounded strange in her ears. “Fuck me,” she commanded. “Fuck me harder.” She reached up and pulled a handful of his hair. 

Roman let out a pained “ah” at the fist in his hair, and then laughed, darkly. He pulled out of her, until only the tip of him remained within her, and then he thrust back, hard enough to shove her forward on the table. Again, again, again he pounded her, picking up speed until he was rutting against her faster than he had ever fucked her. He held her thighs wrapped in both his arms. Their flesh slapped together obscenely. Lucy’s back arched off the table as the pounding stimulation caused that familiar coiling, flutter ache to build inside her. She was sobbing, her voice punctuated by every thrust of his hips. 

“Oh, fuck,” Roman moaned. He voice sounded different. There was no command to it. He was almost begging. “Tell me you love this.”

“I… I love… this…” Lucy panted.

“Tell me you love me.”

“I… Oh God… I love you.”

“Tell me you’ll never leave me.”

“Mmmm… Never… Oh please don’t stop…”

“Tell me you’ll marry me.”

“Oh… oh… fuck… Yes… Yes… I love you so fucking much!”

Lucy’s orgasm slammed into her like a freight train. She’d never before in her life come with her clit completely untouched. She made no sound as wave after wave consumed her, her mouth hung open in a silent scream. Her cunt clenched Roman inside her, and he came with her with a loud groan.

He dropped her legs after a moment, pulling out of her with a hiss. He pulled her up from the table to a sitting position and wrapped his arms around her. Lucy burst into tears. She threw her arms around his shoulders and sobbed into his neck. “I love you, Lucy,” Roman said, and she could hear the tears in his voice. “I never ever ever want to hurt you. You’re fucking _it_ for me.”

“I’m so sorry I hit you,” she cried, muffled against his throat.

“I’ve had it coming most of my life,” he laughed, wetly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note for my own conscience. Hitting is never okay in relationships no matter who does the hitting. I didn't want to give anyone the impression that that is ever acceptable. Okay. I'm off my soap-box. To those who are still reading, thank you SO very much!


	5. Femme Fatales Emerge From Shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains more ADULT content. You have been warned.

Destiny opened the door on Roman and Lucy. She raised an eyebrow at Roman. “You must have been telling the truth,” she said. “My girl here can smell your bullshit from five-hundred paces.”

“It’s okay,” Lucy said. “You can put the claws away. We’re okay.”

Destiny looked closely at Roman. “Just so you know, if ever try to _really_ hurt her, I have a grimoire full of ugly magic with your name on it.”

“Duly noted,” he replied.

Destiny stepped aside and let them into the apartment. Peter was in the living room, sitting on the couch in front of the television. An episode of Sesame Street was playing. Nadia had fallen asleep sitting in his lap; her little head lolled against his chest. Lucy smiled softly at them.

“Uncle Peter’s been her buddy today,” Destiny said. “I didn’t even have to argue with her about nap time. She just climbed up with him and conked right out.”

“What can I say? It’s a gift,” Peter whispered. He slithered an arm underneath Nadia’s legs, and wrapped the other around her little back. He lifted her and stood up from the couch. 

“Can you lay her down in the bedroom?” Lucy asked. “We need to talk to you guys.” 

“A Nazi STD that turns upirs into cannibal zombies?!” Peter exclaimed.

“Shhh!” Destiny looked back toward the guestroom.

“When did our lives turn into a horror show?” Peter muttered.

“Peter, I don’t know if anyone’s told you this, but you’re a werewolf,” Lucy deadpanned. “And your cousin is a witch. And I’m an undead water spirit who is fucking Count Dracula over here.”

“Hey!” Roman chimed.

She ignored him. “We are _seasons_ deep in this horror show.”

Peter glared at her. “So what do we do?”

“For right now, nothing,” Roman said. “The most we can do is try to protect Nadia, and stay vigilant after dark. And stay the fuck away from my mother. This disease will eventually kill any infected upir. We’re basically in a wait-it-out scenario. Pryce is working on a cure, a vaccine, something, but who knows how long that will take.

“One thing’s in our favor,” Roman continued. “The infected ones were easier to kill. A normal upir, we’d have to cut out their hearts, decapitate them, or set them on fire. But these… You guys killed the one at the mortuary with a suction machine. I stabbed two to death. I saw one killed with a frying pan, for fuck’s sake.

“And one thing that’s not in our favor,” Roman said, “is I can’t get bitten. Pryce says this is like any body-fluid borne disease. If I’m bitten by a zombie-upir and it doesn’t kill me, the venom will infect me with the virus.”

“Great,” Peter deadpanned. “So we guard you and Nadia, and avoid your Mom. Shouldn’t be too hard.”

“And I need to warn Annie,” Roman said.

“You’ve got to fucking kidding,” Destiny said.

“If there’s another infected upir around, I should probably warn the only other non-infected one,” he said. “It doesn’t mean anything. I just don’t want to be responsible for her heart getting torn out.”

“Does she even have one?” Destiny whispered.

“No, he’s right,” Lucy said. “Obviously, I’m not her biggest fan, but I don’t want her dead.”

“I tried her phone on the way over here, but she’s not picking up.” He looked warily at Lucy. “I think I should go to the hotel to talk to her.” Lucy seemed to flinch for a second, but then her face was calm again. “Do you want to come with me?” he asked.

“Honestly, I’d rather have a root canal with a monkey wrench and an ice pick,” she replied. She sighed. “Go. It’s alright. I know where you sleep, if anything happens.”

Annie opened the hotel room door on the second knock. Roman walked into the room past her, ignoring the satisfied smile that bloomed on her face.

“I wondered if I’d see you again,” she said, “but I’m glad you’re here.” She sidled up to him, seemingly in the mood for more of her games.

“Stop,” Roman said. “I’m not here for sex or for whatever you think you want from me, or you think I want from you. I came here to warn you. I would have done it over the phone rather than coming here, but you wouldn’t answer. Trust me, if I’d had a choice, I wouldn’t be here.”

Annie stopped in front of him. Her eyes looked hurt, but more than that, they looked disappointed, frustrated. “You really do love her,” she said.

“More than I thought I could love anyone,” he said. “So this…” He pointed between Annie and himself. “Whatever this is, is _not_ happening. That’s not who I am anymore.” He looked intensely at her. “Now listen to me…”

The door opened at the moment, and Olivia stopped in the doorway, staring at the two of them. “Annie,” she breathed.

“You two know each other?” Roman asked, incredulous. He looked to Annie. “This is my mother. This is who I came to warn you about.” 

He whirled on Olivia. “Stay away from her,” he seethed. 

He looked back at Annie. “I don’t know what’s going on here, but she’s infected. It won’t be long before she’s trying to kill you.”

“Why would I want to kill my own children?” Olivia crooned. She smirked at the look of shock and horror on Roman’s face as he looked between her and Annie. 

“I really expected more from you,” she practically sing-songed. “It barely took any of my power at all to get you to fuck Letha. I would have thought Annie wouldn’t have to try so very hard to get you to fuck another sister. Who knew you could be such a disappointment?”

Olivia turned and left. 

Roman felt cold, hollow. Holy fuck. Was that why he had such a reaction to Annie the first time they met? Could he sense his own blood? And she’d tried to seduce him. Olivia was her mother too, and she’d known it. She knew she was his sister and she’d tried to fuck him. Roman felt disgusted, sick. His shocked eyes fell on Annie, who could only wither under his gaze. He had no words. He had to get out of this room before he tore the head right off her shoulders. He turned, fists clenched at his sides, and walked out.

Roman’s shock, disgust, and rage were still simmering in his guts when he rounded the corner to his front door. Lucy and Nadia would be inside. He wondered if her reaction to the truth would be better than his, or worse. He was thinking hard about the bourbon in the liquor cabinet when he looked up, and saw Shelley sitting on his stoop between the shrubs.

His wide eyes stared at her for a moment, sure that this was a wishful-thinking hallucination, brought on by the bombshell that had just dropped on him. And then she smiled at him, and laughed warmly. “Oh Shelley,” he chuckled. She threw her arms around him, and he squeezed her tight, laughing with real joy. It felt like a ten-ton weight had lifted from him.

“I missed you so much,” she giggled.

“I missed you too,” he said. “God, come in. Come in. It’s freezing out here. You should have just knocked. Lucy’s home. She would have let you in.”

“I know,” Shelley said. “I just wanted to see you first.”

“Come on.” He opened the door, and led Shelley inside. 

“Daddy!” Nadia called as she started to run to him. She stopped when she saw the very tall woman with the mismatched face standing next to him. Roman scooped her up into his arms. Lucy joined them in the living room. 

“Shelley!” Lucy cheered. She hugged Roman’s sister, even though it looked a bit silly with her head between Shelley’s breasts and her arms around her waist. “It’s so good to see you!” Lucy said as she pulled away.

“Nadia,” Roman said. “This is your Aunt Shelley. Can you say hello?”

“Hello,” Nadia said. “You have a big eye.”

“Nadia!” Lucy chided.

“It’s okay,” Shelley said. She smiled at Nadia. “It gives me super powers,” she said. “I can see who the really smart people are. And you, Miss Nadia, are one of them.”

Nadia grinned. “Yes! I am very smart!”

Shelley laughed. “She’s got your humble streak, I see,” she said to Roman.

Nadia looked at her quizzically for a moment. “You have another smart friend,” she said, her voice dream-like. “You’re thinking about him. You don’t have to be scared. He loves you very much.”

Shelley looked like she’d been dosed with icy water. “How?...” She trailed off.

“Nadia’s very special,” Lucy said. “It can take some getting used to. Come here, pumpkin,” she said, taking her from Roman’s arms. “Let’s let Daddy talk with Aunt Shelley.”

Roman furrowed his brow dramatically. “So who loves you, and who do I need to take out a contract hit on?” he asked, bumping Shelley’s arm.

“I… well… you see…” Shelley stuttered.

“Damn! Must be serious,” he joked. “Come on, I’ll get you set up in the guestroom.” He hooked Shelley’s arm through his, and led her up the stairs to one of the spare rooms. 

Once she was inside, he went for the linen closet. “I’ll get you some sheets,” he said.

“I’m not sure I’m going to stay,” she said. “I just wanted to talk about some stuff.”

“No, no. Of course you’re staying,” he replied. “She’ll have to call the cops before I give you back.”

“I’m not talking about going back to Mom’s,” she said. “I left there a week ago.”

Roman walked back into the room with an armload of towels, and a look of shock plastered over his face. “You never told me,” he said. 

Shelley shrugged. “Uh, I don’t know… I was…”

“ _She_ never told me,” he seethed. “She fucking lost you, and she didn’t tell me!”

“Mom didn’t lose me,” Shelley tried. “I left on my own.”

“Fucking cunt!” Roman shouted.

“Don’t say that. I hate that word.”

“You’re defending her?” Roman was incensed.

“No, I’m not,” Shelley replied, her voice soothing, trying to calm him. “I’m just telling you what happened.”

“You have no idea,” he said. “You have no fucking idea what she is and what she’s done and what she’s _still_ trying to do.” Shelley said nothing, concern darkening her face. Roman felt tears of rage blurring his vision. “I would fucking kill her,… except the LPS disease is doing it for me.”

“What do you mean?” Shelley asked. “She’s sick?”

“Yes,” Roman said, wiping hot tears from his eyes. “She’s dying.”

“Oh my God,” she breathed.

“The shit that she did to us. Jesus, the things she’s still doing,” he said. “I think she made it her mission to ruin us. Sometimes I think maybe she fucked me up so bad, I’ll never be right. And she abandoned you. You’re the most genuinely good person I’ve ever known, Shell, and she shit all over you. And she’s got maybe another month to live, and I can’t for the life of me find a single reason to be unhappy about that.”

Shelley hugged him suddenly, fiercely. Roman seemed stunned by her gesture, but after a moment, he wrapped his arms around her and held her. She let him go at last, and Roman rubbed his eyes, furiously. “I should go,” Shelley whispered.

“No, Shelley, you can’t leave,” he said.

“Roman, I came here for advice from someone I trusted. But you’ve got stuff going on right now that you need to get through, and that doesn’t include me just yet. So I’m going back to Rooster Poot. You can find me there.”

“No, you’re not leaving,” he said, with more force in his voice. He stood in the doorway of the guestroom, blocking her path.

“You don’t get to tell me what I can do,” Shelley said. “Neither does Mom. Now out of my way.”

Roman looked hurt at her words. But after a moment, he smiled, slightly. This was not the child Shelley that read poetry and fairytales in her attic bedroom. This wasn’t the Shelley that hid behind her hair, and cringed at bullies’ jibes. This Shelley was a woman with a strong will, and a confidence he’d never seen in her before. He was proud of her. He stepped aside, and let her walk past him. 

“If you get cold,” he called to her as she started down the stairs, “if you need anything, you come here. Okay?”

She looked back at him. “I’ll just look for the big sign that says ‘Home’,” she said with a sad smile.

The doorbell rang that evening, just as Lucy was lifting Nadia from her chair at the dinner table. They were ready to head in for Nadia’s bath time. Roman looked at the exterior camera, and saw Annie standing at the door. “It’s Annie,” Roman said, confused. “What the hell is she doing here?”

“Family reunion?” Lucy joked.

“Very funny,” he deadpanned. “Should I let her in?”

“Go ahead,” Lucy said. “I’m taking Nadia in for her bath. I can’t look at her. And if she tries anything, I’ll call the water right out of her supermodel skull, got me? I don’t care if I’m laid up for two weeks.”

“You’re actually pretty sexy when you’re pissed off,” he said with a smirk.

“Eat me, Mr. Godfrey,” she stage whispered, covering Nadia’s ears.

“It’s a date,” he said with a wink.

The doorbell rang again. Lucy gestured to it and carried Nadia out of the room.

Roman tapped the lock and opened the door. “Hey,” Annie said. Roman didn’t respond. “I’m leaving town.”

“The road out of here is that way,” he replied, pointing to the driveway. He walked away, and Annie followed him through the open door.

“Okay. Um, I want to explain first. I want you to understand. Roman, please.”

Roman turned and leaned against the dining table. He raised his palms in a go-ahead gesture, and crossed his arms over his chest, rolling his eyes. 

Annie began. “When my husband and my daughter died last year, I was shattered. I’d never been so alone in all my life. I wanted to find my mother. I’d been searching for her for a long time, and I finally found her. I expected her to be… I don’t know… distant, I suppose. She gave me up when she was very young. But she was wonderful. She was kind. She wanted me in her life. And when I told her about how I’d lost my family, she really seemed to understand. She asked me to come and see her here, and then she told me about you and about Shelley. I wanted to meet you, especially after she told me that you were upir, and that you had a child born with the caul too. I wanted a family, a _real_ family this time, one that wouldn’t die.”

“Bullshit!” Roman spat. “You didn’t want a family. You picked me up in a bar, wearing a little black fuck-me dress. You watched me getting my dick sucked, and then you followed me home. You walked around my house half-naked, looking through my wife like she wasn’t even there.”

“Your wife?!” Annie snapped.

“Fuck you,” Roman seethed. “Yes. I’ll call her my wife if I want to. What business is it of yours? Now, where were we? Oh yeah, then you flash your tits at me and try to get me into bed. Did I leave anything out? What do you really want? Tell me the truth.”

“I wanted a child,” she said.

“What?!” he said, flabbergasted.

“I wanted a child… a baby. My husband was human, so was my daughter. She wasn’t born with the caul. I thought, if I had a child with you…”

“You’re my sister,” he spat, his lip curled in disgust.

“So was Letha,” she said.

Rage filled Roman’s eyes. “Letha was _raped_ , you bitch.” His voice was low, he words sliding between his clenched teeth.

“And Nadia was born with the caul. She could be upir. She could live forever,” Annie said. Her voice had a sick, hopeful quality to it.

“If she kills herself,” Roman seethed. “I won’t let that happen.”

“So you’ll watch her die?!” Annie exclaimed.

“I will watch her grow up. I will watch her live a full and happy life, and if she’s lucky, I’ll watch her become a sweet grandma with a big family that loves her. The last thing I want is for her to be like me… or like you and Olivia, with your crazy incest breeding program.”

“Upirs have done it for centuries,” Annie said. “Brothers and sisters, cousins mating. It kept human DNA from corrupting the upir bloodline. Half of the upir families in East Cornwall are incestuous.”

“Which is why I’m happy to live in Hemlock Grove,” he chuckled, darkly. “Get out of my house.”

“Roman, I was just trying to…”

“Get out of my house!” he roared. He gripped her shoulders, turned her, and marched her to the door. He opened the door and pushed her out into the cold. He said nothing else, slamming the door in her face.

He needed a shower.

“Oh, God… oh, Roman… oh please don’t stop… right there… oh, God… right there…” Lucy was babbling. Her legs were thrown over Roman’s shoulders as his mouth worked her into a sweating, shaking mess. He growled against her center like an animal and the vibrations and the heavenly suction of his mouth sent her careening over the cliff of her climax. He pulled his mouth away from her, and petted her slit through the waves of aftershocks. Lucy looked down at his smirking face as she came back to herself. “Get up here, Mr. Godfrey,” she commanded.

He crawled over her, intent on settling between her legs. Instead, she pushed him sideways onto his back. She threw a leg over his hips and straddled over him. She took him, hard and throbbing, in her hand, and lined him up against her, where she was still slick and sensitive. She lowered over him, sliding down on him, feeling the sweet stretch of him. “Mmmm,” she moaned.

“Fuck,” Roman whispered.

Lucy rode him, swirling her hips, rising and falling and rolling her pelvis. She watched Roman bite his plump pink lips, watched his eyes roam over her. He brought his hands up and cupped her breasts, flicking his thumbs over her hard nipples. “God that’s fucking good,” he moaned.

“Yeah?” Lucy panted. She planted her palms on his chest and picked up the pace, finding that spot, that right angle inside that made her breath catch. Every stroke felt like an electric pulse of pleasure. Roman ran a hand down her back, splaying his fingers over the cleft of her ass, following her movements. She loved his face like this, his pupils blown, his hair mussed, his mouth hanging open as he panted. 

He abruptly pushed himself up to a sitting position under her, wrapping his arms around her back. The change in angle made her movements smaller, but each stroke brushed her sensitive, throbbing clit against his public bone. He lowered his mouth to her breasts, running his soft lips and his warm tongue over her nipples. 

The feeling was building again, coiling. Lucy’s muscles began to shake and tighten. 

“Mmm… Fuck… You’re close aren’t you?” Roman panted.

Lucy nodded, frantically.

“I am too,” he moaned. “So fucking good. Oh, fuck. Ride me. I want to feel you come all around me.”

“T… Touch me,” Lucy begged. 

Roman laid back on the bed, getting a better angle, and then he found her pink swollen button with his thumb where they were joined, pressing it in fast, tight circles. Lucy’s hips snapped against him faster, and Roman began to thrust his hips with her, fucking himself up into her. 

And Lucy came with a long, low, shaking moan. Roman came a moment later, with a loud growl. His neck arched, and the veins stood out against the muscles of his throat. Lucy bent and traced one of them with her tongue. 

She rolled off of him, and they lay for a few moments, catching their breath, staring at the ceiling. At last Lucy spoke.

“You… you called me your wife,” she said.

Roman still on his back, turned his head to her. “You heard that?”

“I heard everything,” she said. “You called me your wife.”

He laughed then, breathy and low, a real, hard laugh.

“What?” Lucy said, laughing with him. She couldn’t help it. His laughter was infectious.

“If you heard everything, then you heard Annie tell me she’s my sister, and that she tried to fuck me to make a super-upir incest baby. And all you took from that, is that I used the word ‘wife’?!”

Lucy laughed with him then. They laid naked in their soiled sheets, laughing like maniacs. Lucy’s arms were wrapped around her middle, and Roman’s eyes were scrunched closed. When the laughter finally subsided, Roman leaned over her, and kissed her soundly. “I love you, you fucking lunatic,” he said.

“Do you want to marry me?” she said.

“I did the whole ring-thing didn’t I?” he said.

“No, I mean…” She smirked at him. “Do you want to marry me tomorrow?”

Roman’s eyes boggled. “Are you serious?”

“Why not?” she said. “I like hearing you say ‘wife.’ Maybe that could be my word from now on.”

A wide smile spread of Roman’s face as he looked down at her. It was the smile that first moved her heart, the one that made him look like the little boy he must have been once. “Okay,” he said.

“Yeah?” she beamed.

“Yeah,” he repeated. “Let’s get married.” Lucy thought he’d kiss her again, instead he began tickling her bare stomach, mercilessly. 

Her screaming giggles accidentally woke up Nadia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note about a couple of moments in this chapter. I thought that a lot of Season 3 committed terrible character assassination on Roman. He was never perfect, but in Season 2, if felt like he had some real growth, and Season 3 suddenly killed it. We're talking Jaime Lannister levels of destruction.
> 
> 1) I hated Roman's "who cares, let's have sex" reaction to finding out that Annie was his sister, considering his reaction to finding out the truth about Letha. So I've undone it here.
> 
> 2) I absolutely LOATHED the fact that Roman told Shelley she was ugly. Roman would never ever do that. In fact, it was a point in Season 1 that he always saw her as beautiful. So I nixed that as well.
> 
> Again, drop me a comment and let me know your thoughts, both good and bad. I'm always happy with feedback. Thanks!


	6. Love's Such An Old Fashioned Word

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a fluff-heavy chapter. Just a warning, if that's not your thing. This chapter also contains some ADULT content.

Shelley stood with Aitor by the big stock pot. The discarded food last night included a couple of big crates of butternut squash, and they’d made a creamy squash breakfast soup for everyone that morning. Aitor filled the tin cups of every person that came for breakfast, some for seconds. “Let me know if that needs some paprika,” he said.

Aitor was strange, but he was strange in every possible good way, from his overly complicated way of speaking, to his unending affection for the people of Rooster Poot, to his admiration of her. Shelley was confused and warmed by him in equal measure. No one had ever looked at her the way that Aitor did. No one wanted to take her to the movies, or hold her, or kiss her mismatched mouth. But more amazing than his interest in her, was the strong need to be near him that had bloomed inside of her. She felt as if he was actually a part of her now, like her arm… or her heart.

A voice called from the dock entrance. “Is there a Shelley Godfrey here?”

She turned and saw two men in delivery uniforms, one carrying a clipboard. “I’m Shelley,” she said.

“We’ve got a delivery for you,” Clipboard said. 

She approached the men, and they stared at her face in shock. She was used to it. “I don’t have any money,” she said.

“Oh, it’s prepaid,” Clipboard said. “I just need your signature.”

Aitor was at her side, looking over her shoulder at the invoice Clipboard handed her. He read the list. “Blankets, toilet paper, toothpaste, toothbrushes, batteries, flashlights, mittens.”

Shelley read the hand-written message at the bottom of the invoice. “Stay warm. I love you. Roman.” She felt tears prickle behind her eyes. “He sent this?”

“Looks like we got us an angel,” Aitor chuckled.

An hour later, Lucy arrived in Rooster Poot. She found Shelley and a man in sheep’s fleece jacket passing out the supplies that Roman had delivered. Shelley laid her head on the man’s shoulder, and he kissed her scarred forehead. Warmth bloomed in Lucy’s chest. It was nice to see Shelley held, to see her loved. When she was close enough, Shelley caught her eyes.

“Lucy!” Shelley called.

“Hey!” Lucy called back, as she jogged up to Shelley and hugged her.

“Thank you!” Shelley beamed. “Thank you for all this.”

“It wasn’t me,” Lucy said. “I mean, I’m glad he did it, but this was all Roman.” She grinned at Shelley. “Um, can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Sure,” Shelley said. “Follow me.”

Shelley led Lucy through an empty factory room, into a hallway and to a converted office. The walls were beautifully muraled with bright-colored graffiti. “This is your place?!” Lucy was awed. “It’s beautiful.”

“Thanks,” Shelley blushed.

“So, I came to ask you,” Lucy started, “are you busy today?”

“Um,… Well there’s the supplies to give out, but no, I guess?” Shelley replied, a confused look on her face.

“Roman and I are going to get married today, tonight really,” Lucy said.

“What?!” Shelley laughed.

“No, really,” Lucy said. “That’s one reason why he isn’t here right now. He’s getting our marriage license.” She laughed at Shelley’s shocked face. “Anyway, I wanted to come here… That is, I wanted to ask you… Would you be my Maid of Honor?”

“You want me to… Should… Should that be me?” Shelley asked.

“I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather have,” Lucy said. 

“But I… I don’t really… I don’t have a dress… and I don’t really have anything fancy,” Shelley said.

“Well, this isn’t really a fancy wedding,” Lucy said. “It will just be family, really, and just at our house. And I wondering if you’d like to come shopping with Destiny and I. She and Nadia are actually in the car outside right now.”

“You really want me to be your Maid of Honor?” Shelley said, her chin quivering a bit.

“Yes, I do,” Lucy said, her own tears coming. “I’m so happy to have you as a sister.”

Shelley hugged her hard. “Is that a yes?” Lucy asked, chuckling.

“Of course,” Shelley replied, wiping her tears. 

Lucy hooked her arm through Shelley’s, and led her toward the exit. “You should bring a date, too,” Lucy teased. “What’s that ruggedly handsome fellow’s name, anyway?”

Roman stood on the stoop, smoking a cigar. The black sky was clear, the stars seemed brighter than he’d ever seen. He knew that he shouldn’t feel nervous, but his heart felt like it would leap out of his mouth onto the stone at any second. He would have been sweating inside his tailored gunmetal colored suit if it weren’t so cold. At least his shirt was dark navy if the sweats _did_ start. Peter clapped him on the back, and Roman almost jumped out of his skin.

“You alright there, man?” Peter laughed. He puffed his own cigar. He was wearing a tie. Roman had never seen Peter wear a tie. He’d never seen Peter in a suit, for that matter. He’d even combed his hair back with something other than spit. And he noticed again how beautiful Peter was. 

“Yeah,” Roman chuckled. “Yeah, I’m alright.”

“I understand people get married every day,” Pryce commented. He’d declined a cigar, but joined them outside anyway, a snifter of brandy in his hand. “I have to say, I’m actually looking _forward_ to this wedding.”

“And if you fuck up the vows, it’s just us,” Peter offered.

“Thank you both,” Roman deadpanned. “That’s helpful.”

“If I may,” Aitor chimed in, a stream of cigar smoke leaving his lips. He brushed an ash from the corduroy sport coat he wore over his white button down shirt and jeans. “I know it’s not really my place, as a new acquaintance, but as the ancient Chinese philosopher Lao Tzu once said, ‘To love someone deeply gives you strength, and being loved by someone deeply gives you courage.’ A wedding like this seems to indicate to me that both parties love each other very deeply. I think anyone would be lucky to find a love like that.”

One corner of Peter’s mouth turned up in a bittersweet smile. “I like this guy,” he said.

“Yes, Mr. Quantic, I feel that you and I could have some very interesting conversations, given your eclectic knowledge of history,” Pryce chimed in.

“Jesus,” Roman laughed. “You two _are_ peas in a pod. No wonder my sister likes you.”

Aitor blushed and puffed his cigar. “But thanks,” Roman added.

Peter shoved Roman’s shoulder with his own. “It’s gonna be great,” he said. “You know it will. She’s beautiful. She loves you. You love her. That’s all anybody needs.”

Roman looked in his eyes. There were so many things he wanted to say, and he didn’t know how to say any of them. He settled for shoving his shoulder back against Peter’s. “Shee-it,” he said.

“Shee-it,” Peter repeated.

The front door of the house opened, and Destiny’s head poked through. “Oh, boys,” she sing-songed. “The girls are ready when you are.” She closed the door again.

“What do you think?” Peter asked Roman. “You ready?”

“Yes, I am,” Roman said, taking a deep breath. “Let’s go.”

They put out their cigars and stepped inside. They’d moved some of the living room furniture into one of the guestrooms earlier, to give them more room to stand. Roman took his place, and Peter stepped up beside him. Pryce stood on the other side of Peter, and Aitor stood further back. 

The speakers of the small music player on the dining table clicked to life, and soft music began to play. Destiny came down the stairs first, holding Nadia’s hand. Destiny’s dress was blue, understated for her, but with a low open back. As she said, it wouldn’t be her without a little skin showing. Nadia’s dress was adorable, a little white frothy piece with a blue sash and blue flowers on the shoulders and sleeves. She carried a bunch of what looked like little blue wildflowers. When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Nadia wriggled out of Destiny’s arms and ran to Roman. He lifted her onto his hip and kissed her cheek. Destiny walked past Roman and turned to face him, a small bound book in her hand. 

Roman put Nadia down. “You stand right here by Aunt Dezzy, okay?” he whispered.

Shelley came down the stairs next. She wore a tailored blue pants suit with shimmery cream blouse underneath her jacket, a bunch of white and blue flowers in her hand. Roman’s breath caught. She looked more beautiful than he’d ever seen her, and he almost chuckled out loud when he noticed her sparkly, dangling earrings. He looked at Aitor, watching her as she came to stand next to him. They were opposite Roman, and he saw Aitor look at his sister with something like awe, and for all his weirdness, Roman suddenly wanted to hug the guy. 

And then he looked up. Lucy was coming down the stairs to him, and he suddenly felt like he couldn’t breathe. She was in a simple white dress with long sleeves, but everywhere on the fabric were blue waterlilies. The top of it looked like it laced, like an ancient peasant dress. She was barefoot, and there was a blue flower pinned above her ear that set off the blue in the black of her hair. She wore the red lipstick he loved so much. 

Beautiful was just a word. Love was just a word. And neither one was enough to describe her, to describe everything inside him at that moment. He felt Peter pat him on the back before he realized that a tear was rolling down his cheek.

Then Lucy was standing beside him. She reached up and brushed the tear from his cheek. He caught her hand and kissed her palm. She smiled that gorgeous, beaming sunshine smile, and bit her lip to keep it in check, just as she’d done the moment he now knew he’d first fallen in love with her. 

“Well,” Destiny began. “Before I get started with the formal stuff, I just want to say… People say that miracles don’t happen anymore. I think every one of us in this room could disagree with that. I’ve seen love produce literal miracles, even defy death.” She glanced at Peter, who smiled sadly. “But if we didn’t believe in miracles before, let’s think about this… Roman Godfrey is getting married tonight.” They all laughed. “I think that alone tells us the power and magic of love.”

Destiny spoke, and they repeated vows from her book. Roman barely heard any of it. He was only filled with Lucy, the beauty of her, the awe of this moment. When Destiny asked for the rings, Peter had to bump Roman in the back to shake him from his stupor. 

“By the power vested in me by the state of Pennsylvania, I know pronounce you husband and wife. Zhan le Devlesa tai sastimasa! Kiss time!”

Roman took Lucy’s face in his hands softly, almost as if she’d break like china, and pressed his mouth to hers. The family and friends clapped and cheered. “I love you,” Lucy breathed as they parted. And then she grinned at the red lipstick on Roman’s mouth.

“That’s a good look for you,” Peter quipped.

Nadia pulled on Roman’s pants leg. “I get a kiss too, Daddy!” she whined. Roman bent to pick her up, and he and Lucy both planted kisses on her cheeks at the same time. She squealed. 

More kisses, dancing, champagne and an obscenely delicious cake followed. Shelley even got Pryce to dance after much begging, and Aitor showed off his moves when he dipped and twirled Destiny. And when the evening drew late, goodbyes and congratulations were said. Pryce, Shelley and Aitor went on their way. Destiny carried Nadia’s little bag to her car, while Peter carried the sleeping toddler, her little head on his shoulder, her drool on his jacket. 

“Don’t worry about her,” Peter said. “We’ve got her. I don’t want to hear from either one of your for at least two days.” He waggled his eyebrows at them. “Enjoy yourselves.”

Roman closed and locked the door behind Peter. He turned and looked at Lucy, and her heart swelled with something like contentment. He was her husband. She’d called someone that before, but it was a title, like Lord or Master. This time the word felt true. Roman was the great love of her life, and now he was really and truly hers. It was a feeling too amazing to describe. 

She smiled softly, almost shyly at him. He smiled back, and then he took her hand and led her to the bedroom. There was no hurry, no frenzy.

When they reached the bedroom, he took her into his arms and held her. He didn’t kiss her yet, he just enveloped her. It was warm, and he smelled so good. She looked up at his face, at the soft pink of his lips. He kissed her then, slowly, thoroughly, as if he were memorizing her lips and the cavern of her mouth. He moved his lips to her ear, pulling the lobe between his lips, setting her heart to a gallop. He rained soft, dragging, kisses down the column of her throat, pulling back when he reached her collar bones. 

He looked into her eyes, and smiled at her again. It wasn’t one of his sexy smirks or his boyish grin. This smile was tender, and Lucy thought if it was possible to die of love, this look would be deadly. 

He lowered his eyes to the front of her dress, and that wolfish glint in his eyes that she knew so well returned. The dress she’d chosen had a corset top, and it reminded her of front lacing stays from her great-grandmother’s time. Roman’s fingers took the end of the laces and pulled top bow free, hooking his fingers between the laces, and pulling them loose loop by loop. The bodice loosened, and Lucy’s breasts heaved with each aroused breath. 

Roman took her shoulders, and turned her back to him. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her flush against him. He kissed the line of her neck as he slipped a hand under the fabric of her dress, cupping the flesh of her breast, circling his fingertips over her nipple, making it harden and pucker. 

Lucy was panting against him when he turned her back. He finished pulling the laces of the bodice enough to slip the dress from her shoulders. Lucy rolled her shoulders and arms, and the dress fell free, pooling at her feet. She stood before Roman in only her white lace panties, while he was still full dressed in his suit. 

“You are the most beautiful...” Roman trailed off. “I can’t think of the words… I love you, Lucy.”

“I love you,” she replied. She looked him over. There were entirely too many clothes. “Why don’t you let me help you with that?”

She pushed the jacket from her shoulders, and he let it fall with her dress. His hand moved to the buttons of his shirt, and Lucy stopped him, shaking her head. “Let me,” she said. And she opened the buttons, kissing each new bit of flesh exposed with each one, and then she pulled it from his shoulders as well. 

He kissed her again, pulling her to him. Lucy never grew tired of the feeling of his skin against hers. Her breasts flattened against the lines of his torso, their hearts racing together. 

Her fingertips found the buckle of his belt, and pulled it free. She broke their kiss to watch his face as she opened the button and zipper of his pants. His brows furrowed with want. She loved him like this. She pushed his pants to fall with their other clothes, and then dropped to her knees. She pulled the shoes and socks from his feet, and helped him step from his pants. She ran her fingertips up his legs, over the hard bulge of him, to the waistband of his boxer briefs. She hooked her fingers beneath the elastic and peeled them from him. His turgid manhood bobbed, and Lucy, took him in hand, licking over the round head of him. He groaned, and then he took her arms and pulled her up. 

“Not tonight,” he said. “Tonight I just need to be inside you.”

She was already throbbing, but his word seemed to send a ripple of pleasure through her center. She took his hands and walked backwards to the bed, laying back onto the pillows. He settled his weight over her, his hips between her legs, and he kissed her again, so slowly, so softly. His lips and tongue explored her throat, her collar bones. He kissed the tops of her breasts, the undersides. She was practically begging, and her nipples were tight, almost painful points when he finally pulled each one into his mouth. Her moan was almost one of relief. 

He kissed down the line of her soft belly, to the waistband of her white, lacy panties. He petted her center through the fabric, and as aroused and sensitive as she was, she gasped at the simple feeling of her fingers ghosting over her. He leaned down, pulling the fabric to the side, exposing her, and he ran the tip of his tongue in a long swipe up the length of her folds. “Unh…” she moaned at the feeling, but she reached down and pulled him up to her. 

“Not tonight.” She repeated his words. “Tonight, I just want you.”

He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth at her words, and pulled her panties from her slowly, letting her feel his soft fingertips running down her legs. He settled between her thighs, and lined himself with her. He pushed forward so slowly, and she gasped as her center parted and took him, warm and slick. When he bottomed out within her, he looked in her eyes. 

“I love you so much,” he breathed. And he kissed her before she could reciprocate. 

He moved within her then, taking his time, stroking slow, deep, drawing out every gasp and moan from her. Lucy wrapped her legs up around him, and ran a hand down his back to cup his ass. She could feel his muscled buttocks flex and release as he made love to her. It seemed forever, before he began to move faster, building that beautiful ache within her. 

“Roman,” she gasped. “I… I love you… oh… please.” It was whispered, like a prayer. And he answered it by lowering a hand between them and finding her hard little button, stroking it as he moved. “Oh… oh… yes,” she breathed.

He strokes sped up, his hips snapping harder. He was holding his breath. She knew he was so close to his climax, and so was she, flushed and shaking. “Please… please don’t stop,” she begged, softly. 

“Never,” he replied. His fingers moved faster against her, and that coil inside tightened tightened tightened and finally broke. She sobbed in his ear as she came, flexing around him, shuddering against him. He came a moment later, bottoming inside her, moaning deep and low. “I love you,” he breathed. “I love you forever.”

Destiny couldn’t understand why Lucy needed her less than forty-eight hours after her wedding, and why here? Lucy’s text had seemed frantic. She’d said there was something wrong with Roman’s dose of Tears, and they needed help, but that they were at the old Godfrey mansion rather than their house. Destiny left Nadia at her apartment with Peter, and sped to them, grimoire in hand. 

She closed the door of her car and jogged up to the huge doors of the mansion. She turned the knob without bothering to knock, peeking her head through the door. “Lucy?” she called. She walked into the old foyer. “Roman?”

There was no answer. The lights were on, but the furniture in the foyer was still covered with sheets to prevent dust. Something felt very wrong.

The door slammed behind her, and she turned to see Annie thumbing the bolt lock. 

“You!” Destiny seethed. “What the fuck are you doing here?!”

“She’s here because I brought her here,” a voice called. Out of the shadows and into the foyer walked Olivia Godfrey, dark sunglasses blocking her eyes. “This is my house, after all.”

“Where are Roman and Lucy?” Destiny spat.

“Rutting like farm animals somewhere, probably,” Olivia replied, through clenched teeth. “Fiul meu s-a căsătorit cu o curvă țărănească.”

“O curvă ar ști,” Destiny returned. “How did you get Lucy’s phone?”

“Their cleaning lady is very trusting,” Annie replied. “All I had to say was that I had some documents to drop off for Mr. Godfrey, and she let me right in.”

Destiny took a deep breath and tried to make herself larger, tried to hide the fact that she was afraid. She’d taken on armed cult members, but two upirs was something else entirely. “What do you want?” she said.

“I imagine my son told you about my… malady,” Olivia said.

“You mean your Nazi STD? Oh yeah, I know all about it,” Destiny spat.

“Gypsy bitch!” Oliva seethed.

“We need the Tears,” Annie said, trying to calm the situation. “My mother can’t feed, and there is no treatment for the LPS disease.” She looked at Destiny with pleading eyes. “I don’t want to watch her die. I thought the Tears of Tefnut might be worth a try.”

“I don’t have any with me,” Destiny said. “Roman has it all.”

“Then make more,” Olivia said.

“I can’t make more without rusalka blood,” Destiny replied.

“So we get the rusalka,” Olivia said.

“No,” Destiny said. 

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Olivia said.

“I said, no,” Destiny repeated. “I know what you are. I know what you’re capable of, and I’m not going to help you hurt Lucika.”

“Oh Darling,” Olivia cooed. “You have no fucking idea what I’m capable of. And I’ve been backed into a corner. Don’t push me.”

“Well, you can rot in that corner for all I care. Let me out,” Destiny turned and walked to the door. Annie blocked her path. “Move, sister,” Destiny spat the last word like a curse.

“Please,” Annie murmured. “You can’t leave. We need you. She needs you.”

“And you need her like a whole in the head,” Destiny said. “Let me out.”

Olivia seized Destiny from behind, hooking a hand that was partially claw-like around her jaw, wrapping her other arm around her waist. She hissed in Destiny’s ear. “You will give me the Tears. You will drain that rusalka cunt like a fucking cider press, and you will give me the Tears or I will pull out your heart and show it to you.”

“Go fuck yourself, you dime store Bathory,” Destiny growled. She turned and spat in Olivia’s face.

Olivia roared. The sound that bellowed from her was like a wounded bear. Her jaw stretched wide and she clamped her jaws over Destiny’s throat, tearing flesh free and spraying blood. She spat a mouthful of flesh onto the tiles as Destiny screamed. She wrenched the hand at Destiny’s jaw, snapping her neck with a loud pop.

“Nooo!” Annie screamed.

Destiny’s body, silent, lifeless, crumpled in from Olivia’s arms and flopped hard onto the floor.

“Time for Plan B,” Olivia said, wiping the red from her pale, gray lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did warn of Major Character Death in this story, I hope no one is put completely off by Destiny's death. The stakes are very high now, and they will get higher.
> 
> To those who've left kudos and comments, you guys are THE BEST!!


	7. People on the Edge of the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a touch on the short side, but we're building up the final few chapters.  
> Thanks again to everyone who's read and enjoyed this story.

Dawn was barely peeking over the horizon, and Lucy was so tired. True, sleep hadn’t been a top priority on Roman’s list last night. His main goal seemed to be breaking his record for the number of orgasms he’d given her in a twenty-four hour period. She’d let herself be drawn and quartered before she ever complained about that. But boy, was she exhausted. The pleasant ache in her lady parts sang in chorus with the not-so-pleasant ache in her muscles. She needed to eat, and she needed to sleep, in that order. 

She stood in the kitchen in her fuzzy robe, making scrambled eggs on the stove. Bread was toasting, and she munched on strawberries while she stirred. She even had a hankering for some chocolate milk like an elementary school kid. The exertions of the last couple of days made her feel like she could raid the contents of the entire fridge. 

She didn’t know Roman was even awake until she felt his arms slide around her waist. He squeezed her to him, kissing her neck, softly. “Something smells good,” he whispered. He at least put on underwear. She didn’t think she’d seen him in clothes at all for two days, again, without complaint.

“I was starving,” Lucy said. “I figured we could use some breakfast.”

“It was cold in the bed without you,” he said. She picked up a strawberry and held it up for him. He ate it from her hand, and nipped her fingertip. “You know strawberries and us in the kitchen brings back some memories.” He pressed his hips against her back, and she felt him hardening.

“Baby,” she said. “I love you, and you are the sexiest man I’ve ever met, but I need a break.” She turned in his arms, and he jutted his bottom lip out like a sad, dramatic toddler. She laughed. “I’m serious. I am so tired.”

He pulled the tie on her robe, letting it fall open a bit. “Are you sure you’re too tired?” he asked, sliding his hand up to cup her bare breast. She hissed when he brushed her nipple.

“Yes,” she said chuckled, pulling his hand away. “And I think you overdid it with my nipples; they’re all sore. And after that last round made my lady bits sore too. You are an animal.” She smirked.

He lowered his fingers and caressed down her stomach. He brushed his hand lower and petted her slit, softly, making her gasp. “Want me to kiss it better?” he asked. He kept moving his fingers over her, dipping into her heat, and any resolve she’d had flew far far away. “I could be so gentle. I could make you feel very, very nice,” he whispered against her mouth. 

“I’m going to burn breakfast,” she whimpered, as she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him, pulling his bottom lip between hers.

A moment later, the front door opened, and the sounds of Nadia’s screams drove them apart. It was Peter. Nadia was on one hip, crying in red-faced hysterics. Lucy jammed her robe closed and tied the belt. She ran to take Nadia from Peter, holding her, bouncing her, making shh-ing noises.

“I’m sorry,” Peter said. “Destiny didn’t come home last night. Is she still here?”

“Still?” Roman asked. “We haven’t seen her since you guys left after the wedding.”

“What do you mean?” Peter asked. He turned to Lucy. “You texted her last night. You said you needed her for some emergency at the old Godfrey Mansion.”

“I didn’t text her,” Lucy said. “I haven’t even looked at my phone.” She looked at her charging station by the door. “My phone’s not here,” she said. “Roman, did you move it?”

“I didn’t touch it,” he replied. “And Peter, we were never at the Mansion. I hate that place.”

Peter looked horrified. “We need to find her. Nadia woke up screaming before the sun came up this morning. She kept saying ‘Aunt Dezzy’s gone’.”

Lucy’s stomach lurched. She pulled Nadia’s head from her shoulder. “Pumpkin,” she said, “did you see something?”

“Aunt… Aunt Dezzy’s gone… I can’t… hear her… anymore,” Nadia said between sobs. Then she jammed her thumb in her mouth and lolled her head again Lucy’s shoulder again.

“Give me a minute,” Roman said. “We’ll go to the Mansion.”

Lucy dressed herself and Nadia after they left. She shared the eggs and toast with Nadia. She tried to get more information from her little girl about Destiny, but to Nadia it seemed that a giant door had slammed over Aunt Dezzy. Nadia said she couldn’t feel her. 

Lucy felt sick. Someone had stolen her phone and used it to kidnap or hurt Destiny. But who could do that? Julia, their cleaning lady, was the only one in the house at any given time, other than the ones who’d been at the wedding. Julia wouldn’t even know Destiny. Lucy couldn’t imagine that anyone from the wedding would have done this, even Shelley’s friend Aitor, who admittedly they didn’t know well, didn’t seem the type. Her head was reeling. _Please let her be alright_ , she prayed.

She stood to collect Nadia’s plate, when a wave of dizziness took her. She had to grasp the counter and sit down in a dining chair quickly before she fell. Lucy took deep breaths, lowering her head until the light-headed feeling passed. She was a rusalka. She didn’t get dizzy unless she called the water. 

“Mama,” Nadia said, cocking her head in that quizzical way that only she could do. “Your heart.”

Lucy looked up at her. “What about my heart, baby?”

“It’s beating too much,” she replied.

The words frightened Lucy. Nadia’s intuition, her ability, whatever it was, never seemed to be wrong. Lucy needed to see Pryce.

Roman and Peter arrived at the Mansion. Destiny’s car was still parked outside. They went into the front door, and Roman found that it looked the same as the last time he’s seen it. Sheets covered the furniture, cobwebs decorated the chandelier. But it was the smell that stopped them both.

“Blood,” Peter said. “Can you smell it?”

“Yeah,” Roman replied. “And bleach. I think there was blood here and someone cleaned it up. Recently, too.”

Peter breathed deeply and repeatedly through his nose. “It’s all in here,” he said, gesturing to the foyer. “Between here and the door.”

“I can’t see anything, though,” Roman said. “She’s not here. I’ll need to make some calls to the White Tower, see if they have resources to send down here to help us.”

Lucy sat on an exam table in the White Tower, dressed in a hospital gown. It wasn’t long ago that she’d been making jokes with Roman about being bare-assed with Dr. Pryce, and now here she was. She smiled at Nadia, who looked at picture books in a desk chair across the room, but the smile was painted on. Lucy was very scared. Was something wrong with her heart? How did that even happen to a rusalka? Did it have something to do with the upir disease? She wrung the hands that rested in her lap. When the door of the exam room opened again, she nearly jumped off of the table.

“Well,” Pryce said, jovially. “The results of your EKG and bloodwork show no heart defects and no heart damage. In fact, your ticker seems just fine.”

Lucy’s breath let out in a relieved whoosh. “That’s great,” she said.

“There is something in your bloodwork that we will need to discuss, however,” Pryce said.

Lucy’s stomach lurched again. “What?”

“It seems that you are pregnant, Mrs. Godfrey,” Pryce replied. “Congratulations.”

Lucy felt dizzy again. She placed a hand behind her on the exam table to steady herself. “What did you say?” she whispered.

“You’re pregnant,” he repeated. “About six weeks, I’d say, based on your Human chorionic gonadotropin levels. However, considering the differences between human and rusalka blood, we’d need to confirm gestational age via ultrasound.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “Did you say I’m pregnant?”

“Absolutely, which would explain the dizziness, fatigue, the tender nipples,” he replied.

“But… that’s not… I can’t…” Lucy had to collect herself. “That can’t be possible,” she said. “Dr. Pryce, I don’t even have a menstrual cycle. I don’t, I mean, my reproductive organs don’t work. They didn’t even before I was… well, this.”

“I have a possible theory about that,” Pryce said. “After the unfortunate shooting on the rooftop, when you regenerated in my experimental tank, you said that not only did the gunshot wound completely heal, but the original scar on your ankle disappeared as well.”

“Yeah,” she said. 

“After additional study of the extra-uterine fluid and its interaction with your rusalka blood, I feel that the genetic binding between the two compounds has created a regenerative substance hereto unimagined. This may have, in essence, jump-started your reproductive organs, namely your ovaries. I would not be surprised if regeneration of the full complement of ovum has occurred as well. I take it that you and Roman have not practiced any type of prophylaxis.”

Lucy looked nervously at Nadia. “Um, no,” she said. “We didn’t think we needed it.”

“I’d like to complete an ultrasound scan,” he said. “Do you have any objections?”

“No,” she said. She was still reeling with shock. If he’d asked her if had any objections to vivisection, should probably wouldn’t have had the wherewithal to refuse. “I had champagne,” she said, suddenly. “Two glasses at Christmas and one at New Years. I didn’t have any at the wedding. My stomach was upset, I thought it was nerves… Did I hurt the baby?” Her eyes were filled with panic.

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Dr. Pryce said. “Obviously, you shouldn’t have any more alcohol of any kind, but I don’t believe the intake you describe would cause the type of damage that you’re concerned with.” He placed a reassuring hand on her wrist. “Let’s just take a look. And I’ll go over all sorts of rules for you to follow before you leave, alright?”

“Okay,” she said, shakily. “Okay.”

Pryce left the room for few moments. Lucy tried to calm her breathing, to calm her racing heart. “Are you sick, Mama?” Nadia asked.

“No, pumpkin,” she answered. “Mama’s just getting her picture taken, and then I’ll talk with Dr. Pryce some more.” She looked at Nadia in realization. “Pumpkin, does Mama’s heart still sound like it’s beating too much?”

“Yes,” Nadia replied. “BUMP-BUMP, bump-bump, bump-bump, BUMP-BUMP, bump-bump, bump-bump.” She made loud drumming noises, followed by fast, soft ones. 

_Oh my God_ , Lucy thought. _She can hear the other heartbeat._

Pryce performed the internal ultrasound after Lucy asked him to have a nurse read to Nadia behind a curtain to distract her. She’s never had an ultrasound before, but knew that this early in a pregnancy, the over-the-belly type wouldn’t give him an accurate picture. A second nurse assisted Pryce. And suddenly there was a whump-whump-whump sound emanating from the machine. “Is that...?” Lucy trailed off.

“That, Mrs. Godfrey, is a heartbeat,” Pryce replied.

Lucy’s tears flowed, and she put a hand over her mouth to stop a sob from escaping. Pryce smiled softly down at her. “Sorry,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.” She wipes her tears away quickly.

“It’s quite alright,” he said. “Growth rate looks at about 6 weeks, as I expected. Here is the yolk sac, and this little bean shape with the flicker inside, is your little one.”

Lucy stared that little flicker, seemingly filled with every emotion she’d ever experienced: fear, joy, surprise, anxiety, excitement, deep love. And when he was finished, Pryce printed a small black and white picture for her from the machine, labeled “Baby Godfrey 6 Weeks.”

“I will not mention anything to Roman, until you tell him,” Pryce said. 

“Thank you,” Lucy grated. “Thank you so much.”

“It’s my pleasure, Lucy,” he replied.

Annie entered the gun shop and perused the merchandise. When the clerk appeared, she spoke. “I’m looking for some protection. I live alone, and there have been some break-ins in my neighborhood.”

“Say no more,” the clerk replied. “Just so happens we have a ‘world’s gone to shit’ special this week. For the ladies, the Taurus 4541. Great for conceal and carry.” He removed three small pistols from the case. “The Smith and Wesson MP22, and the Sig Sauer P226. All available in breast cancer pink.”

“Hmm,” Annie said. “I was thinking more along the lines of the Desert Eagle.”

“Recoil on a weapon like that will land you on your pretty little bubble butt, back in last Tuesday,” he smirked.

“You guys didn’t think my pretty little bubble butt was so helpless when we were dropped in the LZ, to patch up Chosen Company, 2nd Battalion, after the Battle of Wanat. ‘God’s own angels’ I think the G.I.s called us.”

“Sorry about the jokes,” the clerk said, looking bashful.

“It’s alright,” she said. “Nothing I haven’t heard before.” He pulled the Desert Eagle from the case, and passed it to her. She looked it over. “I need some hollow points,” she said. “125 grain. Jacketed.”

“Jesus. What kind of burglars are we talking about here?” he chuckled.

“The kind you drop fast, and they don’t get up,” she said.

Roman had called one of the White Tower investigators to the mansion. They were working on leads, but as with any police investigation, that could take days. If Destiny was alive, they didn’t have that kind of time. Peter had another idea. 

It was night, and Destiny’s apartment was terribly quiet. He walked to her bedroom and looked over her mussed bed, the clothes tossed on the floor. He found a tank top wadded on her bed. He picked it up, crumpled it in his hands, and pressed it to his face, breathing deep, taking in her scent. 

He went to the woods just off the grounds of the mansion, and pushed the change. He’d promised Destiny he’d never do that again, not after Roman had literally wrenched him from the bowels of the vargulf. He risked it tonight for her.

As the wolf, he followed the scent from the mansion through the trees. He padded, warm in his fur in the cold, for less than half a mile before the scent was overwhelming. It was coming from beneath a patch of loose earth. His wolf paws began to dig, and his human hands continued digging as the wolf fur and flesh fell away around him. He pulled and pulled and pulled the dirt, until suddenly her face appeared in the black. 

Shock and grief welled inside of Peter like a volcano. He dragged her from the dirt into his arms. He sobbed as he held her. 

_They fucking buried her shallow_ , he thought.

And then he noticed the horrific bite that deformed the side of her throat, and he suddenly picked up another scent, feminine, sweet. He’d smelled it before,… when he’d first met Annie, in a bathrobe in Roman’s house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AestheticWinchesters - I was dying to get this chapter after your last comment. I had it mostly written already, when I saw your comment. You called it! :)


	8. The Wrong Guy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quick Note: I dropped the storyline where Aitor leaves town and comes back. I thought it was a little needless in this alternate universe.

“She was so cold when I found her,” Peter whispered. “So pale, like it wasn’t even her.” A tear rolled down his cheek.

He was planted in their living room chair. The windows had gone pale with the first light of morning. The television in the corner played an episode of Sesame Street for Nadia. They’d let her watch it with the volume up when Peter showed up at the door. The look on his face alone told Lucy all she needed to know about how the search for Destiny had ended. 

Lucy wiped her own tear as she brought Peter a cup of coffee with a hefty shot of brandy in it. She sat on the floor next to his chair and patted his hand. Roman was on the ottoman facing him, his elbows resting on his knees and his hands steepled over his nose and mouth. 

“They didn’t even bury her deep,” Peter continued. “They just dumped her in a hole like she was a piece of garbage.”

Lucy felt grief like an aching hole in her chest. Destiny, who’d trusted her and called her a friend within five minutes of meeting her, who’d saved Roman’s life, who’d cared for Nadia like her own child, who’d married them just a few days ago, was gone. Her life, her light, her vibrant fire was gone from this world, and it all felt darker for it. “Nech odpočíva v pokoji,” she whispered.

“We’ll find a proper place for her,” Roman said. “We’ll lay her rest with the dignity and the respect that she deserves.” He set his jaw and looked into Peter’s eyes. “And we’re going to find the cock-sucker who did this to her.”

The words seemed to pull Peter up from the depths of his sadness for a moment, and the fire in his eyes matched Roman’s. “I think know who it was. Destiny had a bite; part of her throat was torn open. And I caught a scent. Annie’s scent. I remembered from the first time I met her. I think she killed Destiny, or if she didn’t, she was at least the one that dragged her out and buried her.”

“I don’t understand,” Lucy said. “Why would she kill Destiny? She barely knew her.”

“I don’t know,” Peter replied. “But the scent doesn’t lie.”

“So, let’s take a little trip to the Hemlock Inn,” Roman said, with a dark sneer on his lips. “I’d love to have a word with my big sister.”

Johann Pryce walked into the exam room and found Shelley, his sweet girl and favorite patient, waiting for him. She smiled when he entered and stood to hug him.

“I got your message,” she said. “You said you had a big surprise for me. What’s going on, Uncle Johann?”

“Shelley, oh my dear, Shelley,” he beamed. “I have come upon a discovery so miraculous that it may be the culmination of my entire career.” Shelley only smiled at him, confused. “My dearest,” he continued, “you have always been, and remain, my greatest treasure. And Project Ouroboros, which has been my priority goal for the last ten years, has been entirely geared toward helping you. It is why I chose the name Ouroboros in the first place.”

He sat next to her on the exam table, and took one her hands in his. “The ouroboros, the symbol of the snake or dragon eating its own tail, is found in both ancient Egyptian and Greek iconography. It symbolizes eternity, fertility, the continual cycle of renewal and rebirth, life springing from death. It was revered as a symbol of power for thousands of years. And all of my discoveries, my inventions, from clones organs for transplant, to Prycilla herself have all had a singular goal in mind… To heal my precious Shelley.”

“Uncle Johann, I don’t think I understand,” Shelley said.

“I’ve found it,” he said. “After years of trial and experimentation, a pure accident, an act of God, if you will, although I never would have used the phrase before, has finally ended my search.”

He stood up from the exam table, and pulled a tray of sterile tools closer to her. “Prycilla completed her fetal development stages is a medium of extra-uterine fluid, perfectly designed to aid in cellular growth and maturation. When the fluid was exposed to the blood of Lucy, your new sister-in-law, the resulting genetic mutation formed a regenerative material of unfathomable power. This material can regenerate not just damaged tissues, but long dormant and dead tissues as well. I have incontrovertible proof. And with your permission, my dearest, I’d like to give you this new treatment.”

“I trust you,” she said, and Pryce felt moved at her simple words. 

He very carefully and gently unwrapped the bandages from her hands and fingers, exposing the blackened, necrotic tissue beneath. One of the fingers of her left hand looked as if it had broken off at the second knuckle. He pushed up her sleeves, viewing where the dead flesh of her hands met the pink flesh of her arms. He tapped lightly on her inner forearm, finding the blueish veins beneath her skin. Then he turned to the tray and filled a syringe from a vial of pale pink fluid. He swabbed the skin her arm with an alcohol pad and lowered the needle to her skin. “Here’s the big pinch,” he said, and injected the fluid into her arm. 

When he removed the needle and disposed of it, he turned to her. “How do you feel?” he asked.

“Okay,” Shelley shrugged. “I don’t really feel anything.” Pryce tried to hide his disappointment. “Wait,” she said, suddenly, and her eyes grew wide.

The pink of the flesh at her arms seemed to be expanding, moving down to her wrists, to her palms. The shriveled black skin was pinking, plumping. The change spread to her knuckles, her fingertips, finally to her broken black nails. Shelley’s breath came in pants, and Pryce’s joy was such that his heart felt like a timpani in his chest. 

Shelley looked up at Pryce, tears in her eyes. She flexed her fingers, made fists, used her thumbs to touch every remaining fingertip. “Uncle Johann,” she breathed.

And then Pryce saw another change. The breath ran out of him in a rush. He seized her shoulders. “Shelley,” he whispered. He pulled her up from the exam table, and led her the shiny chrome of the paper towel dispenser, using it as a makeshift mirror.

Shelley gasped. Her scars were gone. The bald side of her face, the side with her enlarged eye, was smooth, the craggy scars she’d had her entire life were completely gone, as if they’d never been. Her new living fingers covered her mouth. 

“You are the most beautiful thing I’ve never seen,” Pryce exclaimed.

“How long is this going to take?” Olivia said.

Annie spun the table top drill into the head of another bullet. “As long as it takes to fill the magazine,” she replied. She added a dose of heparin to the cavity of the bullet, and used a butter knife to apply hot wax from a candle burning nearby, sealing the heparin inside. 

A plain brown cardboard box lay on the floor next to her feet, written in black on the lid of the box was one word: Peter.

Peter was back at the trailer. They’d found nothing at the Hemlock Inn. Annie was long gone, the clerk let them know that’s she’d already checked out the day before. Without a piece of her clothing, he didn’t think he could track her scent if she were still in town, and if she’d left town, they were shit out of luck. He looked up at the wall of the trailer. There was a fresh hole in the wood where he’d punched it in frustration and grief. There was too much pain and rage in him, and nowhere to put it. 

His anger was so strong, he almost thought he smell Annie now, as if she were right outside his door. Wishful thinking.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Maybe it was Roman. Maybe he had another lead. Peter fished the phone from his pocket and looked at the screen. He stomach dropped into his shoes. The name of the caller was “Lucy.” And Lucy’s phone had been stolen… by the person who texted Destiny. He pressed the answer button.

“Who is this?” he growled.

“Peter.” The voice on the line had a French accent. Annie.

“Was it you?” he seethed. “Was it you that killed her?”

“No,” she replied. “You must believe me. I didn’t want that to happen.”

“You just tricked her into meeting you and accidentally tore her throat out?!”

“No, it wasn’t me,” she repeated. “And it was never my intention that she be harmed.”

“Who was it then?” Peter asked.

“I called you because I needed to speak with you. Because you deserve to know the truth.”

“About Destiny?” Peter asked.

“About Nadia,” Annie replied.

“What?” he spat.

“Why do you think Roman took Nadia and raised her after she was born?” she said. “He could have let Norman raise her. He was Letha’s father, after all. But Roman kept her hidden instead. Why would he do that? Why do you think she was born with the caul, just like Roman? And her abilities… She’s half-upir, Peter. Roman is her father.”

Peter should hang up. He knew he should hang up. But he kept thinking of Nadia’s face. She _looked_ like Roman. How did he never see it before? And Roman was so strange when Peter and Letha began their relationship. _Jealousy_ , he thought. _Jesus Christ._

_Roman, she’s your cousin…_

“Why would you tell me that?” he said. “What the fuck is wrong with you? You’re lying. I don’t know what your sick fucking agenda is, but I know you are responsible for Destiny’s death!”

“He raped her, Peter,” she said. “He raped her, and then he erased her memory. You’ve seen him do it before. You’ve seen him use his power. If he concentrates, he can make a human being act against their own will. He made her think it was an angel, but it was him. She screamed and she begged, and he raped her. And she died giving birth to his baby. 

“Now tell me you know that’s a lie,” she said.

Peter said nothing, a tear of horror rolling down his cheek. 

“He destroys every life he touches. That’s what Roman Godfrey does. But you can stop him. I left you something. On your door step. The bullets are filled with heparin. Two shots will put him down long enough to finish him off. The choice is yours.” She hung up.

Peter’s shaking hand dropped the phone onto the floor. He walked like a man asleep to the front door and opened it. A plain cardboard box marked with his name, lay just outside.

Roman walked out of the greek restaurant, take out bags in hand. Lucy got it in her head that they absolutely had to have souvlaki for dinner. It was weird. She never was so adamant about food, especially since she’d been so tired the last couple of days. But, she’d promised if he went to pick it up, after Nadia went to bed, she’d give him a long blowjob while he had a glass of bourbon on the couch. He’d practically run to the car.

He smirked to himself as he turned down the alley to where he’d parked the SUV. Maybe he’d ask her to put on the red lipstick first. He unlocked the passenger door, and put the bags into the floor to keep them from falling off the seat. 

When he stood up again, something suddenly slammed into his chest, throwing him back into the brick wall of the alley. Blood flew. He’d been shot. Someone stood in the shadows on the other side of the alley. He could see the smoke drifting from the end of the pistol in the shadow’s hand. The shadow pulled the trigger again, and the gun jammed with a loud click. 

Roman roared and launched himself at the shadow, throwing it against the brick of the opposite wall. He slammed the hand holding the gun against the bricks until the weapon fell to the ground. He threw the shadow across the alley, against a set of garbage cans, and then he could see the shadow’s face in the streetlight.

“Peter?” Roman exclaimed. “Peter what the fuck?”

Peter jumped to his feet, pulling a huge knife. He slashed at Roman, who jumped backward. “Peter, what are you doing?!” Roman cried.

Peter stabbed at him, and Roman seized his wrist. He used his weight to push Peter into the bricks. Peter wrestled the knife up, intent on burying it in Roman’s throat. Roman did the only thing he could think of. He opened his jaws and bit Peter right through his shirt, just above the collar bones. Peter screamed in pain and dropped the knife. Roman opened his jaws again, extracting his teeth, trying not to tear or damage Peter. They both fell to the pavement, wounded, panting for air.

Roman groaned and pressed a hand to the gunshot wound in his upper chest. He was bleeding like a stuck pig. “You fucking shot me!” he exclaimed.

“It was you,” Peter said, going limp from the upir venom. “You raped Letha. You’re Nadia’s father.” He saw the look of horror on Roman’s face. “It’s true, isn’t it?”

“I didn’t know,” Roman said. “I didn’t remember any of it.”

“Bullshit,” Peter spat.

“I swear to God,” Roman said.

“You don’t believe in God,” Peter said.

“I didn’t,” Roman replied. “But I swear on my life…”

“Swear on Lucy’s life,” Peter said.

Roman exhaled. “I swear on Lucy’s life… Olivia… my mother forced me… she used her power… I didn’t remember it at all, just like Letha didn’t.”

“You raped her, and she fucking _died_ because of you,” Peter said.

“I was raped too,” Roman said. “Olivia wanted Nadia to be born. She wanted her blood. She used her power on me and on Letha. After Letha died and you disappeared, she brought the memories back. It was the worst moment of my life. It made me into this.”

“You were jealous,” Peter said. “When Letha and I fell in love, you acted like a psychotic jealous asshole for so long. She was your cousin, and you didn’t want anyone _else_ to fuck her.”

“Of course, I was jealous!” Roman shouted. “But I wasn’t jealous of you, you fucking cock-sucker! I was jealous of her!”

Peter blinked at him. “What?”

“I loved Letha like a sister. It wasn’t her that I wanted,” Roman said, softer, looking at Peter from under his eyebrows. 

Peter looked confused, then flabbergasted. “I… I didn’t know,” he said.

“That’s because you’re a stupid asshole,” Roman replied.

“You’re telling me the truth?” Peter said after a moment.

“I could have killed you just now,” Roman said. “I didn’t. I’m bleeding all over my good coat, and I just admitted a past gay love for my best friend while my wife is waiting for me at home. What do I have to gain by telling you everything?” 

Roman looked at the pavement. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I didn’t know how. For some reason, I thought you might not believe me. That you might take it badly.” He gestured to his blood dripping on the asphalt. “How did you find out?”

“Annie,” Peter said. “She called me on Lucy’s phone. I don’t know why she would do that, but when she told me, I couldn’t think straight.”

Roman’s eyes widened. “She thought you’d kill me, or I’d kill you to defend myself. She wanted us out of the way. Why?”

The door of the house crashed inward, startling Nadia as she sat on the living room floor. She burst into tears. Lucy jumped, turning from her spot next to the kitchen sink to face the door. 

Olivia charged in, a pistol in her hand. She pointed the muzzle directly at Nadia. “Try anything, rusalka,” Olivia said. “Try your little water trick, and I’ll put a bullet in her brain.”

“Please.” It was all Lucy could think to say. Terror seemed to have short-circuited her brain. “Please don’t.”

Annie stepped through the ruined door a moment later, a pistol in her hand as well. She had the audacity to look sorry. 

“Now,” Olivia said, removing her sunglasses. Lucy could see the blue-black veins marring the skin around her eyes. “You’re going to open a vein for Annie here, and we’re going to take that lovely rusalka blood of yours, as much as we want. It is after all, the only worthwhile attribute you have. And once we’ve taken what we need, assuming you’re still alive, we’ll leave you and my ingrate son in peace.”

“I can’t. You can’t,” Lucy breathed.

“I beg your pardon?” Olivia said.

“I’m… I’m pregnant,” Lucy said.

Olivia let out an ugly laugh. “I have heard some amazing lies in my time, but this? You’re a rusalka. That’s impossible.”

“I know,” Lucy said. “But it’s true. Please. In my bag, by the door…” She gestured to Annie with pleading eyes. Annie picked up Lucy’s purse. “In my wallet,” Lucy said.

Annie opened her wallet, and pulled out the black and white ultrasound image. “Mon Dieu,” she whispered. She walked up to Olivia, who continued to hold her gun on Nadia. Annie held up the photo for her.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding,” Olivia said.

“Please,” Lucy said again. “Please, I won’t tell Roman or anyone what happened here. Please just leave us alone.”

“We’re way past that, sugar,” Olivia said. She turned to Annie. “Get the kid, we’re taking them both.”

“LUCY! NADIA!” Roman screamed, as he and Peter stumbled through the destroyed front door of his house. They were both bleeding, limping, dizzy. 

The television in the living room was still on. Nadia’s apple juice cup was overturned and spilled all over the kitchen floor. 

“Look,” Peter said, pointing down. There were two sets of wet footprints on the rug, one from a pair of women’s boots, one from a pair of stiletto heels. 

“Olivia,” Roman said. “Olivia and Annie.” His lips pulled back from his teeth like an animal. “I’ll fucking kill them both.”

“Roman, we need help,” Peter said. “You’re still bleeding, and I’m starting to lose feeling in my legs from your fucking bite.”

“I’m calling Pryce,” Roman said. “We need to get to the White Tower.” 

He picked up his phone to dial, wincing at the pain in his chest and shoulder, when the phone suddenly began to ring in his hand. Lucy’s name was on the screen. He and Peter locked eyes. Roman tapped the speaker button.

“If you hurt them, I will pull your fucking guts out through your mouth,” he roared. 

“Roman.” It was Annie’s voice. “They’re alright. We’re keeping them with us. And I will protect them as long as you stay away.”

“That’s not going to happen,” he said.

“I don’t want to hurt them,” Annie said. “I’ll keep them safe, even from our mother. I just want the baby. Then you can have them back.”

“You’re not taking Nadia!” Roman shouted.

“I’m not talking about Nadia,” Annie said. “I promise I will bring Nadia and Lucy back to you. I just want the baby. It’s what I’ve been hoping and praying for.”

“What are you talking about?!” he roared. “What baby?!” And then the realization poured over him like icy water.

“You didn’t know?” Annie said.

“Oh God,” Peter breathed.

“A… A baby?” Roman said. All the courage had run out of him. His voice broke. “Is she… Is Lucy alright? Please. Please don’t hurt her.”

“Roman, she’s fine,” Annie said in a placating voice. “I’m taking good care of them. Just stay away, and that doesn’t have to change.” The line clicked dead as she hung up.

Roman looked helplessly at Peter. “I… I can’t…” He couldn’t get another word out. Shock and fear had squeezed the breath from him.

Peter took him by the shoulders. “The White Tower,” he said. “We go to the White Tower, and get back to our full strength. And then we get them back. You and me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're coming to the end! I'm so excited! Thanks again to all of you who are still reading my story and for all the great comments and kudos. You are all the best!


	9. We Can Be Heroes

Pryce and Blinsky met them at the doors of the White Tower, and forced both Roman and Peter into wheelchairs, racing them to the elevators. The elevator cars stopped on Sublevel 5, and the doctors helped them both onto exam tables. 

Peter spoke up first. “Help Roman first. He won’t stop bleeding.”

Pryce turned to the other doctor. “Thank you, Dr. Blinsky. That will be all.”

“But… but…” Blinsky stuttered.

“Get your ass out of this room, now!” Pryce shouted. Blinsky ran for the door like his hair was on fire and his ass was catching.

Pryce cut Roman’s shirt off, and looked at the wound. “You usually don’t bleed like this,” he said. “I don’t understand.”

“The bullet’s filled with heparin,” Peter said. 

Pryce’s eyebrows could have hit the ceiling. “Alright,” he said. “I need to get this bullet out immediately, and give you protamine sulfate.” 

Pryce pulled a sterile surgical kit from a nearby cabinet. He pulled on gloves and squirted betadine over the wound. “Roman, I have no lidocaine here, and you can’t afford the time it would take to order it. This is going to be extremely painful. I’m sorry.” 

Pryce took the scalpel and made an incision over the bullet wound to widen it. Roman stomped his foot on the table and groaned, loudly. “Fucker!” he roared. Pryce then took forceps and inserted them into the opening. Roman panted and moaned, and Pryce pulled the forceps out with the bullet clamped in them. 

He took a large packing bandage and slapped it over the wound. “Hold pressure here,” he said, and pressed Roman’s hand over the bandage. He turned away and returned with a syringe with a huge needle. He jammed the needle into the side of Roman’s neck.

“Ah! What the fuck?!” Roman screamed.

“It’s an intra-jugular clotting agent to keep you from bleeding out,” Pryce said, as he thumbed the plunger and pulled the needle out.

Roman moaned and actually chuckled. “Peter, you fucking owe me one,” he groaned.

Pryce then turned to Peter, cutting his shirt off as well. He examined the bite mark. Roman’s lower teeth had punctured Peter’s flesh just above his collar bone, while his upper teeth had broken through behind his shoulder. The flesh around the wounds was bright red and enflamed. 

“I always knew you wanted to get us topless, Pryce,” Roman chuckled through the pain.

Pryce ignored him. “You’ve received a dose of upir toxin,” he said. “I’ll need a small quantity of venom to create an anti-venom. It won’t take long, but I need to extract venom from Roman.”

Pryce went back to the cabinet and returned with what looked like a giant dentist’s syringe. He stood over Roman.

“I take it back,” Roman said. “You owe me two.”

“Open your mouth, please,” Pryce said. Roman did. “Wider please,” Pryce said. Pryce inserted the needle into Roman’s soft palate, pulling the plunger back. The vial of the syringe filled with pale yellow liquid. He extracted the needle.

“You okay?” Peter asked, his voice soft.

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” Roman replied.

Minutes later, Roman’s bleeding had stopped. But by the time Peter received his shot of anti-venom high in the muscle of his shoulder, he was unconscious. Pryce administered the shot, rubbing the injection site with a ball of cotton for a moment. Peter woke with a loud gasp that made Roman jump and shout “Fuck!”

“You okay?” Roman asked.

“Fan-fucking-tatic,” Peter chuckled.

“Annie’s been using Lucy’s phone,” Roman said. “Can we hack her GPS from here?”

“Oh ye of little faith,” Pryce quipped as he sat down at his computer. “The White Tower has more illegal tracking software than the fucking C.I.A.” He pulled up what looked like a combination map and database, typing in Lucy’s phone number. After a moment, a bright red dot appeared on the screen. “It would appear that your mother has simply gone home,” Pryce said.

“The Mansion?!” Roman scoffed. “Why would they go there? They’d have to know we’d look there.”

“They don’t know there’s a _we_ ,” Peter said.

“What?”

“Annie only spoke to you,” Peter said. “She didn’t call your phone to talk to you. She was checking to see if you were dead. And since you’re not dead, she’ll assume that you killed me instead. She doesn’t expect you to go to the Mansion alone, not with Lucy and Nadia’s lives at stake.”

“So we use that to our advantage,” Roman said, standing up from the exam table with a wince. “We go together and tag-team the bitches.”

“That gunshot wound is still in bad shape,” Pryce said. “You won’t be much good in a fight.”

“I need to feed,” Roman said. “I need some nutrient.”

“Unfortunately, thanks to your mother, I had to flush my entire stock,” Pryce said. “But, I have an alternative.”

Pryce walked back to a lab refrigerator, and returned with two syringes and a vial of pale pink fluid. “Meet the ultimate success of Project Ouroboros,” he said. “The healing touch of fate.”

“You’re not going to stick that in my neck again, are you?” Roman asked.

“Tempting, but no,” Pryce replied. 

He filled the two syringes with a small amount each of the fluid. He gave both Peter and Roman an injection in the inner arm.

After a moment, Roman saw Peter’s eyes widen. “Holy shit!” Peter exclaimed. He was looking at Roman’s chest. Roman looked down and saw his gunshot wound close before his eyes. The flesh knit together and filled in, leaving no scar.

Roman watched as the bite marks in Peter’s shoulder did the same.

“How?” Roman breathed. 

“Project Ouroboros. Prycilla’s sacrifice and Lucy’s blood,” Pryce orated. “The poetry of it is astounding.”

Roman suddenly had a flash, an image from a dream long ago. 

An ouroboros painted in red on his shirt. 

Peter’s voice. _Is that blood?_

_We’re in this together._

Lucy sat on the bed where Nadia slept. Annie had taken them to a huge attic room. There was a large bed, sofa, desk. Lucy’s belly filled with terror when she glanced at that white hospital bed at the center of the room. What the hell was it here for? What the hell did they plan on doing with it?

Annie sat on the sofa, facing them, gun in hand. Lucy stood from the bed and approached her. Annie leveled the gun at her.

“What are we doing here?” Lucy asked. “What’s your plan?” Annie said nothing. “This isn’t going to go well for you,” Lucy continued. “You’ve seen the LPS tumor the same as I have. Your mother is dying. You can’t save her, and it’s dangerous for you to be around her.”

“I won’t abandon my family,” Annie said.

“What about Roman?” Lucy said, trying not to let her fear show. “Did you hurt him?”

“Roman is fine,” Annie said. “I spoke to him. I let him know that as long as he stays away and lets me have what I want, you and Nadia will be fine.”

“You can’t take my blood,” Lucy said. “You’ll hurt my baby. I won’t let you.”

“I have no intention of doing anything to hurt that baby. It’s precious. You should sleep with Nadia,” Annie said. “Pregnant women need their rest.”

Lucy felt her heart drop. The hospital bed. Annie’s obsession with having an upir child. “You want my baby,” she whispered. “You’re insane. What are you going to do? Keep us here for nine months? Your mother will be dead in a week. Roman and Peter will come for us long before then.”

“Peter is dead,” Annie said.

“What?” Lucy breathed.

“I told him about what Roman did to Letha,” she explained. “Peter went after Roman to make him pay. But it looks like Roman killed him first. Roman isn’t coming. He can’t beat us on his own.”

“Liar,” Lucy seethed.

“Look in my eyes, rusalka,” Annie said, standing face to face with her. “Am I lying?”

Rage filled Lucy like a maelstrom. “I should call the water out of your fucking eyeballs,” she hissed through her teeth.

“If you do, you’ll be alone with my mother,” Annie said. “Is that what you want?”

Lucy willed her breathing to calm. “Your mother,” she said. “Your mother is the one who forced Roman to rape Letha. Did you know that?”

Annie winced. “She did what she had to do for the legacy of her line.”

“Her line,” Lucy laughed mirthlessly. “She didn’t tell you the real reason she wanted Nadia to be born, did she?” Annie’s brow furrowed. “She wanted Roman to eat her,” Lucy spat. “She wanted him to drink her half-upir blood to take her strength. She wanted to cannibalize her own grandchild. Now tell me how much she cares about her line. She doesn’t care about Nadia, or Roman, or you. She will kill every one of you to survive.”

Annie was visibly shaken, her eyes haunted. “Menteuse,” she said.

“Look in my eyes, upir,” Lucy said. “Am I lying?”

After Annie locked the attic door, she found Olivia in the second floor hall. She was sitting in the dark, still wearing her sunglasses. She turned sharply toward Annie, and Annie saw with alarm that a line of drool was dripping from her mouth.

“Where is it?” Olivia hissed.

“Where is what?” Annie replied.

“The blood, you idiot!” Olivia said. “You were going to bring me some of her blood!”

“I cannot take blood from her in any significant amount,” Annie said, “not even a pint. It will hurt her baby.”

“Like I give a shit!” Olivia roared.

Annie winced. “You promised me that I could have her child. You wanted your line to continue. You said you needed me, because your family was falling apart.”

“Take Nadia, then!” Olivia hissed. “Take Nadia and give me the fucking rusalka!”

“I won’t do that,” Annie said.

“Then take the baby and give me Nadia!” Olivia growled. “I’m fucking starving!”

Annie flinched as if she’d been hit. “Mon Dieu,” she said. “She was right. You care for no one but yourself.”

“I’m a survivor,” Olivia said, and fresh drool poured down her chin as her lips drew back from her graying teeth.

Roman and Peter approached the Mansion from the woods. Roman carried his battle axe. Peter put out a hand and stopped Roman within sight of the mansion’s windows. “Okay,” Peter said, almost to himself. He shrugged out of his coat, and buttoned his shirt, shivering in the cold.

Roman looked at him incredulously. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to turn, Roman,” Peter said.

“Hey, hold up. We didn’t talk about that,” Roman said. “You already pushed the turn to find Destiny. What if you don’t turn back? I can’t pull you out of the wolf again. I’m not even sure how I did it the first time!” 

Peter turned to him, and Roman’s stomach lurched at the look in his eyes. “This is it, Roman,” he said, softly, almost smiling. “I’m not going to be able to turn back.”

“What?!” Roman exclaimed. “No! This isn’t how this goes! We go in together, and we come out together. We’re in this together.”

“Roman, listen to me,” Peter said. “You can’t go near Olivia. If she bites you, hell if she _scratches_ you, you’re as good as dead. I’m not going to let that happen. But I’m if I’m going to tear her heart out and not get killed in the process, I have to do that as the wolf. And you have to get your family out.”

Roman’s chin began to quiver and his vision blurred with tears. “But you’re my family too,” he said.

“Yeah,” Peter said. “Always. That’s why you have to take my head.”

“What?!” Roman cried, the tears slipping from his eyes. “You’re fucking crazy! I’m not doing that!” Roman dropped his battle axe onto the forest floor.

“Roman! Roman!” Peter took Roman’s face in both of his hands, forcing him to look in his eyes. “You have to. If you don’t, I could kill you or Nadia or Lucy.” He smiled sadly at Roman. “I think maybe it was always meant to be you.”

Roman saw flashes from dreams, memories.

_The Catabasis_

_Swinging the Battle Axe, Saving Shelley in the dream from the black wolf_

_The beating heart in the wolf painting in the mirror_

_You must make your heart steel…_

“I can’t,” Roman wept. “I’m not strong enough.”

_I should have been stronger for you…_

“Yes, you are,” Peter said.

“You can’t ask me to kill you,” Roman cried.

“I’m not scared, Roman,” Peter said. And the calm in his voice was frightening. “She’s waiting for me. I saw her. When I passed out in the White Tower, I saw her. Letha. And she was more beautiful than I’d ever seen her. She’s there, just on the other side of the door, waiting for me.”

Roman broke into sobs, dropping his head onto Peter’s shoulder. Peter held him tightly. “You’re my best friend,” Peter said. “My only friend.”

Roman lifted his head, and Peter took his face in his hands again. “I love you, Peter,” Roman said.

Peter did something then that Roman carried with him always. Peter pulled Roman down and kissed his mouth, softly. Roman tasted his own tears, felt the scratch of Peter’s beard, and when Peter pulled away, they rested their foreheads together. “I love you too, Roman,” Peter said. “I always did.”

“It should have been you,” Roman whispered. “Nadia should have been yours.”

“She has the father and mother she was always meant to have,” Peter said. “And I’m going where I was always meant to go.” Peter slapped Roman’s face, lightly. “Man up, you pussy,” he said with a smirk. “Are we saving your family or what?”

Roman picked up his battle axe.

Painful screams pierced the night. They were coming from the Mansion.

“My God,” Roman said.

“Let’s go,” Peter said. “Now.”

Lucy heard the screams from the second floor. They were full of pain, seemingly unending. Nadia awoke, startled, and began to cry.

 _Annie_ , Lucy thought. _Oh God, Olivia’s killing her._

Lucy jumped up from the bed. She put two hands on the old sofa and shoved her weight against it, pushing it across the floor, to wedge it against the door. She looked around the attic frantically for some kind of weapon. Books by the hundreds, an old computer, a flimsy desk, nothing that could help her. Then Lucy saw something in a box wedged into a corner of the room. It was full of Christmas lights, tons of them. 

_The optic nerve_ , Lucy thought.

She snatched the strands upon strands of lights, and piled them up like a fort around Nadia. When she plugged them into the wall, the toddler was surrounded by a shining fence that was almost up to her full height as she sat on the bed. The lights distracted Nadia from her whimpering, and her little thumb found its way to her mouth.

Roman and Peter raced into the mansion. The screams had abruptly stopped. They both sniffed the air. “Blood,” they said in unison. 

“Upstairs,” Roman said, and they ran up the stairs to the second floor hall. 

There in the dark, they found Annie’s body. Her entire chest cavity had been torn open. The remains of her broken rib bones jutted up and outward at painful angles. The entire front half of her throat was missing. Roman could see into the open pipe of her torn trachea. Blood soaked the carpet as splattered over the walls. Her mouth was open in a frozen scream.

Then they heard the ferocious banging up the stairs. Something was growling, screaming, trying to break through wood.

“The attic,” Roman said. “Shelley’s old room.”

“That’s where they have Lucy and Nadia,” Peter said.

“How do you know?” Roman asked.

“I can smell their fear,” Peter said.

The attic door rattled on its hinges. Lucy could hear the growls and shrieks of rage from the other side of it. Olivia was throwing her body against the door, and it was beginning to splinter.

“Mama!” Nadia cried. 

“Stay right there, baby!” Lucy called to her. “Stay right inside the lights. And close your eyes. Mama loves you so much.”

Roman and Peter found Olivia at the attic door. Her face was a roadmap of blue-black veins, and one of her eyes had gone milky white, like a cave-dwelling animal. The smell rolling off of her was like a corpse in dry rot. She turned to them, bloody pink foaming drool dripping from her lips like a rabid dog. Her eyes found Roman, and she let out a snarling howl.

Peter looked at Roman. “Promise me,” he whispered, and stepped between him and Olivia. “Go, now!” he screamed.

Peter didn’t tear or burst from his human flesh. He literally exploded into the white vargulf. Its front paws slammed into Olivia, knocking her to the floor.

Roman rushed past them. Olivia’s claw hand reached out from under the vargulf and snagged Roman’s boot. The vargulf snapped its jaws over her arm, and she shrieked with pain. The claw released, and Roman pulled free. The vargulf twisted its muzzle, and Olivia’s arm tore free of her shoulder, spraying dark gelatinous blood. Roman looked back once more at the vargulf. Its eyes found his for a moment before it ripped into Olivia’s chest, snapping, tearing, jerking out her tumor-ridden heart.

Roman’s axe came down over the knob of the attic door, smashing through the wood. He put his shoulder against it, and shoved the door open with all of his upir strength. The sofa that had been wedged against it flew across the floor.

“Roman,” Lucy breathed, joy, relief, and awe shining from her face.

“Are you alright?” he asked. “Are you both okay?”

“We’re okay,” Lucy replied.

“Daddy! Wolf!” Nadia cried, pointing past Roman.

Roman turned, and found the vargulf stalking after him. He brandished the battle axe. “Peter,” he said. “Peter, please.”

“Peter?” Lucy gasped.

The vargulf’s quivering lips pulled away from its bloody jaws. It jumped into the air, pouncing at Roman… and then stopped in midair.

Roman turned and found Lucy standing in front of Nadia, blocking her view. Lucy’s palms were outstretched toward the vargulf and she was shaking.

The vargulf let out a dull whimper, and looked at Roman with almost pleading eyes. Water began to collect and rise from its muzzle, its eyes. “Roman,” Lucy wept. “Roman… I can’t…”

Roman looked at the vargulf in sorrow.

_What’s the G stand for…_

_You can’t walk away from this…_

_Just don’t hurt him…_

_It was fucking beautiful…_

_I could’ve never done it, if I hadn’t had you there with me…_

_I shouldn’t have abandoned you, and I’m sorry…_

_I was completely fucking lost…_

_Then you should marry her, my man…_

_He would have done the same for me…_

_It’s Nadia’s birth certificate…_

_She loves you. You love her. That’s all anybody needs…_

_I love you too, Roman. I always did…_

_You must make your heart steel_ …

“For you, Peter,” he whispered, and he brought the blade of the battle axe down over the vargulf’s neck with all his might.

Roman wrapped Lucy and Nadia in his arms on Shelley’s bed. He wept as his kissed them. “I love you,” he said. “I’ll never lose you again.


	10. Epilogue:  I Can Live Within You

September

Shelley sat at her desk in what was once the Godfrey Mansion. The expansive manse was now the Rumancek Memorial Shelter and Volunteer Center. 

A teenager in a torn denim jacket sat in the chair opposite her. She handed him an envelope. “You’ll find your room assignment, and your clothing vouchers in here,” she said. “There’s a chore and job schedule that you can choose from. There’s a sign out sheet for the toiletries. You can take whatever you need, just make sure you write it down so we have enough stock. And lunch should be ready in the ballroom in a few minutes. I think its broccoli cheddar soup. It’s killer.” 

The teenager laughed. He seemed much more at ease now. Her appearance seemed to scare him at first. Although Shelley’s scars were gone, and hair was growing over her entire head now, and her hands were healed and functional, she still had a mismatched face. One eye would always be oversized. She wouldn’t have changed it. It was the first thing Aitor complimented her on, after all. 

“Welcome home,” Shelley said, shaking the teenager’s hand. The boy mumbled a thank you that looked very close to a sob of joy, and walked out of the office. 

Aitor walked into the office a moment later. “Are you going to take a break for lunch, or will I need to drag you away?” he asked. He leaned down and kissed her softly. 

“You won’t need to drag me away,” she said. “I’ve been looking forward to your soup all morning.”

Shelley’s phone buzzed loudly on the desk. She picked it up. It was a text from Roman.

**Heading to the White Tower. Birth Day. Can you come and get Nadia**

She texted back immediately.

**On my way**

“Looks like we’re going to miss soup,” Shelley said. “Lucy’s in labor. We’ve gotta go.”

“Nacho!” Aitor shouted into the kitchen. “We’re off to experience the miracle of life! You’re on lunch detail!”

Shelley jumped with a giggle, and she and Aitor ran down the hall and out the front doors of the mansion. 

On the way out, they passed two paintings on the wall, one of a bearded young man in a button-down shirt, laughing in the sunlight, the other of a beautiful woman with brown curls. The plaque beneath the paintings read:

In Memory of Peter Rumancek and Destiny Rumancek

May all who enter here live as they did:

Making the world brighter, nobler, and more loving

“Alright Lucy, you’re almost there,” Pryce said. He was sitting on a small, low stool between her legs. “On the next contraction, I want you to really push.”

Lucy panted, her face red and glistening. Roman held one of her hands while holding one of her legs in a sort of upside down squat, her foot planted in the hollow of his shoulder. A nurse held her other leg in a similar position. “Okay, okay,” Lucy said, feeling the contraction coming like a clenching metallic fist of pain. She held her breath and grunted with the push.

“Good, good,” Pryce cheered. “You’re doing splendid.”

The contraction ended, and Lucy’s breath whooshed out, her head lolling back on the bed. “Motherfucker,” she breathed.

“That’s my name,” Roman quipped. 

“Don’t make jokes when I’m giving birth! Fuck!” Lucy cried as another contraction rolled over her. She pushed again, working harder than she’d ever worked in her life.

For all Roman’s attempts at levity, he looked absolutely terrified. He’d tried to push her to get an epidural, but Lucy had refused. “I want the pain,” she said. “I want to feel everything.”

“Alright, Lucy,” Pryce said. “That’s it. I can see the head. Now, on the next push you’re going to feel burning, but don’t stop pushing, alright?”

Roman looked down between her legs, and sure enough, the top of a tiny head was visible. “Holy shit,” he breathed.

“Alright, here we go. Push, Lucy! You can do it!” Pryce cheered.

Lucy pushed, grunted, and screamed in the back of her throat. 

“Alright, Lucy,” Pryce said. “The head is out.” He looked up at Roman. 

Roman looked down again, and saw what Pryce saw.

“Alright, Lucy. One more big push and this is all over,” Pryce said. “Here we go. Push!”

Lucy pushed again with everything she had, and she felt the baby leave her body in a rush, filling her with a strange relief. 

Pryce lifted the baby onto her stomach, and Lucy didn’t know what she was seeing at first. It looked like the baby was in a giant clear water balloon. 

“No need for alarm,” Pryce said. “It’s the caul. It’s completely intact, and the baby is still in the fluid. It’s perfectly safe.”

Pryce snipped the membrane with a small pair of scissors, and fluid leaked everywhere. He took a rubber bulb and sucked fluid from the baby’s nose and mouth. After a second, the baby let out a gurgling cry, turning bright pink before their eyes. 

“You have a beautiful baby boy,” Pryce said.

He laid the baby on Lucy’s chest, and she wrapped her arms around him. A nurse laid a warm blanket over both of them.

Lucy burst into tears, looking down at his angelic face, feeling the warm weight of him. All of the fear she’d carried for so long rolled out of her and was replaced with deepest love she’d ever felt in her life. She looked up at Roman, and saw tears rolling down his cheeks. He leaned down, kissing her mouth as both of them sobbed. He brought his mouth to her ear.

“You are the fucking love of my life,” he whispered.

“I love you, too,” she wept.

She looked down at the amazing new person in her arms. “Hello, Peter,” she whispered. “I’m your Mama.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that is my story. I hope hope hope that everyone has enjoyed it, and is not disappointed. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who read my story, and to everyone who left kudos and comments.  
> I specifically want to thank:
> 
> Cin89  
> Daniela  
> RoweenaJAugustine  
> AestheticWInchesters
> 
> Your comments kept me going!!


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